


Return of the Guardians

by Aluxra



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Gore, Book/Movie Combination, Gen, Jack Whump, Memory Loss, Mixed verse, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 139,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluxra/pseuds/Aluxra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something wicked this way comes.</p><p>A very old spirit has risen and is taking matters into his own hands when it comes to the balance between good and evil, threatening both sides and the world they live in. Calling together forces beyond that of solely the Guardians, all out war is upon them and as the battle lines are drawn, many will have to face their own demons before confronting the ones on the battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon A Time

Shadows stirred in the belly of the cavern, the sharp creak of hanging metal cages the only sound in the dark. In the vast emptiness of the cave, in the hollow, warped globe, the hunched figure curled up tighter.

A low rumble shattered the silence and caused the ground to shake, dust falling from the high ceiling onto walkways and bridges. 

The darkness awakened, screaming at the intrusion of their realm.

The Nightmare King opened his eyes.

* * *

_Once upon a time, there lived the Guardians of Childhood._

_They go by many names, but you will still recognise them. They are the Sandman and the Easter Bunny; they are the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. They protect our dreams and memories, they bring wonder and hope._

_The newest addition to the Guardian ranks is the Guardian of Fun: Jack Frost._

 

Katherine reread the few short paragraphs on the page, tucking a loose strand of wavy auburn hair behind her ear and dipped her quill into the inkwell beside her, scraping the excess off the nib.

 

_Five years have passed since the Battle of Burgess, where the last believer lived. It was there Pitch Black, the Bogeyman, and his army of darkness were defeated and there has been much joy in the world since then. As Christmas approaches, Nicholas St. North prepares for his holiday, hoping as ever to make it even bigger than the year before._

 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. She imagined North striding around the workshop, elves scuttling underfoot of the labouring yetis in the last mad run up to Christmas, keeping up with every changing whim that struck North's fancy. She stroked her chin with the feather, glancing over to the library door when Kailash – her beloved goose – waddled through and came up to her, stretching her neck over the arm of the chair to look at the pages spread open on Katherine's lap.

Long ago, they had learnt magic that allowed Kailash to shrink and grow at will, becoming the size of a regular goose, or a whole room. Kailash took to the ability with great amusement, surprising Katherine when she least expected it. At the moment, Kailash was just a normal-sized goose, and Katherine continued to write as Kailash settled next to her chair.

 

_As always, Tooth and Sandy work around the clock collecting teeth and bringing dreams to children around the world. Meanwhile, Bunnymund hibernates deep in the Warren, waiting for Spring to arrive so his work can begin for his own holiday._

 

Katherine paused, thinking of Bunny curled up fast asleep in the Warren. The tip of her quill scratched across the paper as she sketched the sleeping Pooka, blowing on the ink to dry it. She tapped her fingers against the page, as if she could reach through it and let him know she was thinking of him, before she continued writing.

 

_Meanwhile, the newest Guardian – Jack Frost – has spent the last five years building on his new foundation of belief, enjoying being believed in and being seen. His eyes shine bright with ideas of snowball fights and sledding as he dances through the sky, spreading his light-hearted fun wherever he goes._

 

Katherine hummed, resting her chin on her hand, her fingers tapping against her cheek. She had observed Jack becoming a Guardian and the events that had unfolded afterwards from her observatory – a large, circular, windowless room where delicate, shimmering ether wisps swirled across the smooth marble floor and trailed up the walls. It was there where she had watched the unfolding events of Easter of 2012 and the Guardians' battle with Pitch Black alongside Jack Frost.

Jack's striking resemblance to Nightlight surprised her, and she watched as he fought Pitch and swore the Guardian oath, her writing turning into frantic scribbles of everything she saw, unable to intervene, bound by her own oath as Mother Goose to record stories rather than live them. Now that she had the Tale of Burgess stored within the library, she would need to write of the years Jack had spent leading up to it, from when he was chosen and through the centuries he had lived, store them within the shelves of her library where they would forever be committed in time.

Unfortunately, her observatory only allowed her to see the present. She would need to extend an invitation to her home soon, in order to learn more about him and the three hundred years that had gone by unaccounted, his life and his adventures before and after being chosen by the Man in the Moon, no longer mere anecdotes in the lives of other spirits.

'What do you think, Kai?' she asked, straightening in her chair and leaning over the edge of her book as Kai raised her head. 'Do you think we should invite Jack and the Guardians over after Christmas?'

Kailash honked, ruffling her feathers happily. Katherine laughed, cupping her head in her hands and kissing the top of the soft white crown. Perhaps she would extend the invitation to others for Jack to meet, like her father and Nightlight - though he never required an invitation. She waited for his return from his adventures, hoping it would be soon. She missed him terribly.

Katherine sighed, settling back in her chair, and picked up her quill. Kailash honked, fluffing up her feathers and settling at her feet, on the thick red rug next to the fire. 

The South Library was their favourite place to write, with its red and gold decor and large, arching windows. The heat rolling off the hearth filled the vast library, though Katherine enjoyed being close to the roaring flames, listening to the crackling wood. Outside, an unending expanse of powdered white snow blanketed the world, winter settling in to the edges of her home. It reminded her of camp fires made back in Santoff Claussen on cold winter nights, when the children would sneak out of bed and camp in the forest, listening to Katherine’s stories and playing among the trees, watched over by the bejewelled Spirit of the Forest and their Great Bear friend. The skies would be clear, like now, the stars winking at her from their home.

She continued to write late into the night, until the old grandfather clock in the corner behind her chimed quarter past the hour, and Katherine yawned, stretching her long, slim arms up above her head and dropped the quill next to the ink well before closing her book.

‘Kai?’ she said. Kailash blinked awake, raising her head. A tilted smile graced Katherine's face as Kailash looked up at her. ‘Time for bed?’

Kailash honked in agreement, rising and stretching her wings before tucking them in close again, and shook her whole body like a dog. Katherine chuckled, drawing her dressing gown around her tighter and wandered over to the fire. She heaved a small bucket of water up into her arms and doused the flames until the fire died, hissing and spitting, leaving Katherine and Kailash in the dim light of the lamps that hung from the walls, like sentries stationed between each towering, arched window. Kailash drew the row of curtains closed, yanking at the thick knotted rope tied to the wall with her beak. She gave one last pull and the hangings settled into place simultaneously, closed for the night, and she wrapped the rope around the hook that kept it secure.

Kailash stopped.

She snapped her head up, and looked around.

Something had drawn her attention, escaping before she could locate it - an errant sound, maybe, or a shadow out the corner of her eye. Katherine was still by the unlit fire, using an iron poker to shift the ash off of the half-burnt wood to the bottom where it would be collected in the tray and thrown out, or used for the gardens. The lamplight kept the shadows back, the darkest of them occupying the empty aisles between the bookcases stretching up towards the ceiling and all the way across the room from wall to wall. Nothing looked out of place: Katherine’s writing supplies still sat on the table beside her favourite armchair, the book lay open on the seat cushion --

The book was open.

Kailash cocked her head to the side and made a small, confused sound as she waddled back to the chair, stopping in front of it. She honked, flapping her wings.

Turning away from the fire, Katherine stared at her in confusion. Kailash stretched forward and pecked the book, open on the last page Katherine had written.

Katherine straightened, narrowing her eyes, and shared a look with Kailash. Forgetting about the fire, she approached the book, the poker hanging loose in her grip by her side. It tapped against her leg with every step, the metal warm and heavy at the tips of her fingers. Gently easing Kai's beak away, she reached out and slid her hand under the front cover, flipping it closed. She pushed it down with her fingers until the old, leather binding creaked, as though it would ensure the book remain closed.

A moment of stillness passed; the air itself seemed to hold its breath as Katherine stared down at the book in front of her.

A shadow flitted across the edges of her vision.

She spun around, holding the poker aloft like a weapon. Kailash honked behind her, puffing out her chest and stretching her wings, ready to grow to her natural form. Katherine held out one hand, a silent command to wait, and raised a finger to her lips. Kai stilled, silent as Katherine scanned the library. 

Opposite her chair by the fire were the countless rows of bookcases, stretching back as far as she could see into the depths of the library. The corridors were dark between the shelves, the soft light of the lamps unable to breach the shadows. She narrowed her eyes, staring hard into them, trying to distinguish foreign ones from those she recognised.

‘Alright, who’s there?’ Katherine demanded. Silence answered.

Something shuffled across the floor behind them, and Katherine spun around and jabbed forward.

Nobody was there.

Her book was gone.

‘Come out and face me, coward!’ she yelled, her voice echoing through the library. No one answered. Her library remained silent.

She scowled and looked over her shoulder to the maze of bookcases, glaring hard at the shadows. She surveyed her writing corner one last time, before she turned on her heel and crept towards the bookcases. Pressing her back against the spines, she sneaked down one aisle, glancing back and forth with every step she took, Kailash following close behind her. She kept the poker raised in front of her, ready to attack if anything leapt out at her as she crept further and further away from the light, the moon providing the only illumination through the curved glass roof high above their heads, the torches snuffed out in their hooks on each bookcase, letting the darkness stretch between the towering shelves.

She paused when she came to the end of one row, looking around the corner down the endless, empty aisle between the bookcases. She crossed it in two long, determined strides, Kailash waddling after her as she flattened herself against the solid spines of the books she guarded. They looked at each other, and Katherine pressed her finger to her lips again, jerked her head towards the aisle they had crossed and Kailash nodded. They both poked their heads out, mimicking each other as they looked opposite ways, then back again.

Something flew across the passageway several bookcases down, and Katherine bolted after it, Kailash in tow.

They ran between the shelves and along the aisles, the shadow disappearing around corners and down dark straights every time they drew close to it, each bookshelf identical to the next as she scanned for the intruder before taking off again, deeper into the heart of the library. The intruder seemed to be nothing more than a shadow, flitting just beyond the scope of her vision, sending a chill down her spine whenever she wasn’t looking, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She swung the poker out in front of her in wide, wild arcs, cutting through nothing but air after coming up empty handed once again.

‘Where are you?’ she shouted, sharp grey eyes looked for any signs of movement. A gentle, warm orange glow illuminated her back, softening the faded greys and blues that painted her surroundings as she approached the heart of the library, where all paths led. There, a large, ornate globe of glass and metal shone with the small pinpricks of light: not the bright sparks of believers, but the spirits of the world. Three layers exploded out from each other, depicting the three physical realms that they knew of, connected together by a spider web of metal. It had been crafted with deliberate, intricate detail, labelled to show the geography of each realm: the human world in the middle, stuck in the in between of their own hidden world and the dark, perilous realm buried beneath the others, where no lights glowed. It was a realm where few dared enter, and the spirits who did call it home were cloaked from sight. One spirit was trapped in that realm by his own literal Nightmares, having once commanded them like an army General –-

\-- She shook her head, pushing such thoughts away and scrutinised the globe, watching the flurry of activity across it. Every single spirit her stories featured – and many whose stories she hadn’t yet penned down in detail- appeared as a burning spark on the panels of metal and glass, free to pass between their realm and the human one by the bridges her stories laid down for them. A bright cluster of light shone at the highest point of the outermost world – the big man himself surrounded by his yetis and elves – while many others flitted about in a chaotic blur across the globe. Circling it, held up in the air by magic, was a smaller sphere with a single bright light on it, forever facing the earth. The world was as it always was, continuing to turn on its axis.

‘You know,’ a voice echoed from the shadows. ‘I do love a good book.’

Kailash honked in surprise, and Katherine whirled around, eyes flicking back and forth in search of the voice that filled the space around her. The soft, smooth sound of pages turning reached her ears, and she did not need to guess where her book had gone.

‘Though I must say, yours are somewhat disappointing,’ it continued. The book closed with a sharp snap.

‘I didn’t realise they were up for critique, since they follow people’s lives,’ she called back, her eyes searching for a target.

‘Ah yes, the Guardians and the other spirits,’ the voice replied. ‘Each little detail penned down for the humans to hear and retell to each other over and over and over again. Amazing what a story can do, isn’t it? How it can bridge the gap between worlds? It makes you think, really, what would happen if all those stories just... disappeared.’

Kailash and Katherine shared a look, and Katherine tightened her grip on the poker. She pressed her lips together till they disappeared into a thin white line, a small rivulet of sweat slipping down her temple. She stepped to the side and began to circle the globe, scanning each of the aisles that led to it as she did.

‘That’s never going to happen,’ she replied steadily, despite how hard her heart hammered against her rib cage, her hand slippery on the poker. ‘I’m here to make sure of it.’

‘Ah, yes, the Storyteller,’ the voice chuckled. ‘The one everyone relies on to keep those bridges open. The one who keeps everyone safe.’

There was a pause: her hands shook, and she swallowed drily as she waited for the intruder to speak, hoping he'd reveal his location.

‘Who exactly keeps you safe?’

‘Everyone,’ she snapped. ‘No one can touch me, because if I can’t write their stories, the humans will never know of them and eventually forget about them. No one can touch me, because they all need me - even you.’

‘Even me? Even _me_? Do you know who I am? Are you even old enough to know who I am, what I am capable of, without ever needing belief?’

The light dimmed and an ominous rumbling shook the floor beneath her feet. Kailash honked and Katherine whipped her head around, her neck cricking with the force of it. The globe flickered with countless lights, flashing like Christmas decorations, before several snuffed out at once.

Katherine stopped short, the poker almost slipping from her hand.

‘What happened?’ she whispered, reaching out to touch the globe with one hand. ‘What’s happening?’

‘My army,’ was the reply, half-bored. ‘It’s very good at what it does, and very, very hungry after being forced back into that dreary little cave they used to call home.’

Her hand curled into a fist against the metal, her nails digging into her palm. Her grip tightened on the poker as she hefted it up over her shoulder, ready to swing and turned away from the lights. The Fearlings had been freed to crawl across the earth once again under the control of the stranger, killing those whom she had sworn to protect. She would not see any more die tonight.

‘Why?’ she spat. 'Why are you doing this?'

‘To bargain,’ the stranger said, his words carrying a smile. Katherine stopped in her tracks, a chill creeping up her spine. Kailash drew closer to her, glancing around as the darkness seemed to edge towards them, moving against the light.

‘Bargain,’ Katherine repeated. She looked over her shoulder at Kailash and jerked her head up towards the globe. Kailash flew up and landed on the top, surveyed the ground below from her vantage point, honking. Katherine began to move again, keeping the poker held high, Kailash following her movements.

‘Yes. See, it’s very simple,’ the stranger continued. ‘You give me what I want, and I stop picking off your dear spirits one by one. Refuse and… well, it’s really in your best interest not to refuse.’

‘And what is it that you want from me?’ she demanded. The nape of her neck itched, a creeping shiver up her spine like someone was sneaking up on her. She looked over her shoulder, eyeing the shadows that hovered at the edges of the globe's light. There was only empty air behind her, and she hurried away, pivoting on her tiptoes as she circled the globe.

‘Oh, isn't it obvious?' the stranger said. ‘I'm looking for something _very_ valuable, not just to the Guardians, or the spirits, or the humans. I'm looking for the very thing that keeps this whole world turning.'

Katherine stopped, her eyes widening even as she tried to keep her face blank, like how North had taught her during cards, pushing her hair back from her face. Kailash turned in sync with her as she side stepped her way around the globe, keeping her eyes on the shadows.

‘And what… would that be?’ she asked, her voice hitching, and her hands began to tremble around the poker.

‘I think you know.'

Katherine closed her eyes, pressing her lips together till they disappeared. She swallowed, goose bumps rising on her cold skin.

There was an old story, forever meant to be lost in time and space, forever meant to be untold for fear of what it could unleash. It told the tale of a creature demented and twisted by his warped, fervent need for balance and bargaining. A creature with a stolen name that heralded a warning not to trust strangers offering an exchange or a trade. A creature who, meant to stay lost with the old story, had now inadvertently been given a bridge into their world by that name.

She looked up at Kailash, a silent order in her watery gaze as she jerked her head towards the glass roof. Kailash blinked, confused, and honked when she realised, shaking her head in refusal. The darkness around them shifted, and Katherine whirled around.

‘Kailash...'

‘You see,’ the stranger continued. ‘There's only one way to balance an unbalanced world, and it's a way only I can provide.’

Katherine scowled and shook her head, blinking away the unshed tears in her eyes. She looked up at Kailash again, and jerked her head towards the glass roof again. Kailash flapped her wings and refused. Katherine gritted her teeth, glancing at the darkness: they weren’t alone anymore.

‘Well, then,’ she said, swallowing around the lump in her throat. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her rib cage, a cold sweat prickled her skin as shivers crawled down her spine. She straightened, tall and proud, and gripped the metal poker in sweaty palms. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that deal of yours. You’ll never get what you’re looking for; not from me, not from anyone.’

‘I don’t think you quite understand your predicament,’ he said.

‘I don’t think you quite understand _yours_ ,’ Katherine shot back. ‘I am the first on a long list who will never tell you what you want to know. What you’re planning will never work. Go ahead and try to pick us off one by one, but prepare for a fight because we won’t go down without one. No matter what you do or how hard you try, North will stop you.’

She paused, licked her dry lips. Her hands tightened on the poker. ‘North will stop you. He will figure out what you’re up to and will stop you dead in your tracks. The darkness won’t help you when no one is afraid of it. No one is afraid of Nightmares or shadows or the dark or the bogeyman _anymore_!’

‘I’m not the bogeyman,’ he whispered in her ear. Kailash let out a strangled cry as she swooped down to Katherine's side.

The darkness surged up, a deafening roar shaking the library from the foundations.

Mother Goose spun around, a battle cry on her lips, poker swinging in a vicious arc as she came face to face with her assailant.

A blood curdling scream echoed through the library.


	2. The Nightmare Begins

North strode through his workshop, unhindered by the usual chaos that inhabited his home. He had been awake since before the pale orange light of dawn, new ideas and plans dancing around his head like sugarplum fairies. He shouted them over the raucous noise that filled the workshop, pointing and ushering and swinging his arms in grand, sweeping gestures to demonstrate what he meant to the busy yetis. ‘ _Nyet, nyet -_ that is wrong green, Oscar, I want it emerald! Think like Bunny, that will work. Albert! Follow new specification on assembly, should make it faster to—’

North stuttered to a halt, the world around him tipping on its side.

His hand slammed onto the closest table to stop his fall, his vision falling into blackness and back again in a warped blur of colour. A cold sweat broke out on his skin, a heavy, empty weight dropping to the pit of his stomach. He gasped, blinking furiously as the bright lights and the vivid colours of the workshop burned his eyes. Pain splintered deep in his chest as he swallowed around a tightness in his throat, bearing his weight on the table until the nausea passed. He tasted bile and blood, where he'd bit his tongue, his whole body shaking. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see Phil at his side, a concerned look on his face.

‘Goota sk’dabyu?’ Phil rumbled, his thick growly voice tinged with worry. _What’s wrong_?

North shook his head, unable to speak. Phil harrumphed, rested a hand between his shoulder blades and eased him away from the table, ushering him through the bustling chaos of the workshop back to his study. Elves skittered about underfoot and toys clattered together in assembly, mechanical contraptions imbued with magic flying overhead as yetis argued and laughed while they worked, the scrape and clang and hiss and beep of tools droning over each other throughout the workshop.

North’s headache worsened, and he allowed himself to be led in silence through the workshop until they entered his study. Phil motioned North to sit and bellowed out the door for tea, before closing the door with a sharp click, shutting out most of the clangour.

‘Phil, you worry too much,’ North said as he lowered himself into his chair. 'I am all right.'

Phil stared at him deadpan and stood by North’s desk, arms folded across his chest. ‘Shku sk’erki shmirka?’  _Who’re you trying to convince?_

There was a knock at the door before North could answer, and three elves jogged in with a large tea tray carried between them. Phil took it from them as they swerved under its weight, and shooed them out, making the tea himself. North huffed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes turned to the ceiling. The pain in his chest hadn’t abated, like a vice squeezing around his heart. He blinked, troubled: his vision wasn't blurred or warped, like when the nausea had first took hold of him, and it wasn't speckled with flashing dots or fading in and out of darkness. By all accounts, he _was_ fine, and yet...

‘I felt something horrible just now,’ he explained, looking to Phil and taking the cup from him. ‘Like... like swallowing a shadow.’

Phil snorted, narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders. ‘Oorni bak?’ _Bogeyman?_

North shook his head, and took a sip of tea. Despite the shadowy feeling, it didn’t feel like Pitch; even though he controlled the darkness, the Nightmares had still dragged him off into his lair to torment and torture him five years ago. He could not get away from such a fate so soon and no news of living darkness had reached North’s ears since that Easter. He could feel it in his belly; it wasn't Pitch. North always trusted his belly, but for it to trouble him now, just as December began and the countdown to Christmas was in its last, full-out stretch of round-the-clock hectic work, worried North. On top of that, he couldn’t pin down a reason for his skewed vision, and that terrified him more than any shadow.

It seemed a struggle to see the wonder in everything.

His gut twisted, anxiety rippling beneath his skin.

‘As I said,’ he began, setting his tea down and shaking his head. He forced the anxiety to the back of his mind and stood quickly, dusting off his trousers. ‘I’m sure there’s-’

A loud noise made them jump, turning to the window in unison. Phil hurried over to it, flicking the latch up and pulling it open.

A haggard, beaten white goose fell through the window to the floor.

‘Kailash?’ North gasped in horror. Phil picked up the injured bird and cradled her close to his chest. Kailash wasn’t even in her natural form, flopped in the yeti’s arms as a pitiful, ordinary sized goose. She lifted her head with difficulty, and North cupped one large hand around it, muttering soothing words to her as he checked her injuries.

‘Kailash, where is Katherine? What happened?’ he asked.

A tear formed in the corner of one eye, and she cried out in distress. North and Phil stared at each other in horror.

‘Uh oh,’ Phil grumbled.

*

‘Take Kailash to medical ward; I want her care to be number one priority as of _now_ ,’ North ordered as he strode through the workshop. He stormed into the elevator and cranked the gears to descend. Phil only just managed to hop in with him, Kailash still cradled in his arms as they sped down to the sleigh chamber. Yetis and elves alike shared a disbelieving glance between themselves: there had never, _ever_ , been anything that had taken precedence over Christmas.

Everyone stepped out of North’s path, readying the sleigh while Phil followed him, his arguments falling on deaf ears. Finally, he handed Kailash over to the slate furred Jacob with instructions for her care, before he hurried after North.

‘Goota sk’erki garba?’ he demanded as North swung his thick red coat around his shoulders, strapped his twin blades to his belt and pocketed a set of snow globes. He hopped into the sleigh and gripped the reins, prepared to leave when Phil’s hand lashed out and gripped his arm, a deep growl resonating from his chest.  _What are you doing?_

North paused, staring down at the hand gripping his arm. He raised his eyes to meet Phil’s, a fierce determination in his bright blue gaze, but there was fear, too. ‘Phil, I need full report of Kai’s condition when I return, and redirect bulk of workload to the main floor – redistribute the yeti’s with it. I want the elves to begin preparations in case others need to be called.’

‘Phil,’ he paused, as if he wanted to say something else, a troubled look on his face. He changed his mind at the last minute, smiling and said: ‘You’ll keep everything running smooth until I come back, _da_?’

Phil hesitated, his eyebrows knitted together in concern, before his grip slackened, accepting North’s forced smile and empty confidence with a short nod. North patted him on the shoulder, before gripping the reins in both hands and snapping the heavy leather with a loud crack.

‘Everyone out of way!’ North yelled, before nine reindeer lurched forward, a stampede of hooves thundering along the wooden floors and out into the ice tunnels. Everyone scattered under the threat of being trampled, a rapid gust of air sweeping through the room in their stead, flinging hay and fur and dust up into the air around the yetis and elves before settling again.

Phil grumbled under his breath, staring at the spot North had stood. The yeti glanced between themselves, murmuring to each other until Carl, a heavy-set dark brown yeti, tapped Phil on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. Phil blinked at him, looking around at the yeti waiting on his orders. His shoulders sagged, huffing a small, weary sigh and began reorganising the workshop, the hustle and bustle of the North Pole picking up again. They shooed the elves from underfoot, pointed them in the direction of the kitchens and the guest quarters to keep them busy and out of trouble, while everyone else began packing up and shifting their work down into the main halls. Phil glanced at the opening to the cavern one more time, his brow knitted in worry, before his attention was drawn away and he focused on the yetis who needed him.

*

The sleigh hurtled through the twisting ice caves and burst out into the bright morning light, sunlight reflecting off the snowy peaks guarding North's home. North squinted against the glare, grabbing the reigns in one hand and digging into his pocket for a snow globe. With the whisper of Goose Library on his breath, he hurled it into his flight path and opened a whirlwind of spinning, fractal light that sucked him in and swirled him around at dizzying speeds before a sharp tug pulled him and his sleigh out at his destination.

He stared over the side of the sleigh, blinking, his eyes widening in horror as the scene sank in with brutal clarity.

Everything was ash.

An immense, gaping hole of smouldering cinders marked where the library had once stood in the snowy field. Tall, charred piles of broken brick and wood stood in the sea of black soot: bookshelves, empty and seared black, were reduced to thin, splintery structures likely to collapse under their own weight with the next breeze that blew across the field. Walls crumbled over each other in the haze of thick, heavy grey smoke rising from the scorched rubble, blacking out the sky. Black snowflakes fell idly upon the remnants, leaving their mark on the snow as patches of sunlight broke through the heavy cloud, the sky a brilliant blue above the dark clouds.

North set his reindeer down away from the destruction, the animals uneasy and skittish, stomping the ground and throwing their heads back. North calmed them distractedly, never taking his eyes off the ruins before he finally approached it in silence with numb limbs. Rubble crunched under his boot, shifting like gravel under his feet. The hot kindling snapped and popped, still burning under the ash. The acrid smell clung to his clothes and made his eyes water, the sweltering heat pushing through his heavy coat and seeping through his boots. It settled deep in his bones, the kind of heat that pricked his skin and wound around his chest, stealing his breath and making his heart heavy.

He gasped for air, short and shallow that did not give him enough, trying again, a ragged, stuttering attempt. The grey ash-snow swirled around him, and he flinched when a stray flake fluttered against his face, biting into his skin. Wiping it away, it crumbled against his fingertips. His brow furrowed, and he looked closer at its frayed, brittle edges.

It wasn't snow falling, but the tattered shreds of Katherine’s books.

The numbness disappeared, his knees gave out from under him and he fell to the ground with a scream. Turning his face to the blacked out sky, he screamed until his breath ran out, until his throat seized. The reindeer jostled each other in shock, stamping the ground. Still North screamed, his anguish swallowed by the emptiness until he had nothing left, and he collapsed forward, his head bowed.

Nothing else stirred at the interruption: all that once was here was dead.

A heavy sob escaped him, and he covered his eyes with one hand as tears began to trail through the soot that clung to his skin. The charred rubble bit into his trousers, the great swath of his coat fanning out around him in the hot ash. He had prayed that he had been wrong about his gut feeling, that he was an old superstitious fool that relied too much on fluke circumstances. He should've been able to storm through the still intact library and find Katherine reading in one of the libraries, surprised by his drawn swords and blazing eyes. He should've been able to feel embarrassed by it, and Katherine would tell it as a light-hearted joke when she next saw the others. Bunny would poke fun at him forever afterwards, and Katherine would laugh at their bickering. 

It should've happened the way he imagined it, but the blackened ruin before him denied him that future, taunting him with what he had known before he had even stepped through the portal. He had known that his friend had been beyond his help as soon as he’d seen Kailash, separated from Katherine. His eyes had been affected by it, warping his vision.

With Katherine gone, the world had lost a little bit of wonder.

His sobbing filled the eerie quiet, punctuated by the pop and crackle of hot splintering wood and the soft bray of the reindeer. Caught up in his grief, he didn't notice the sharp dance of movement across the snow in the distance that circled around the black pit, leaping across the rubble towards North until the hairs on the back of his neck rose, an uncomfortable itch spreading across his skin. His sobbing stuttered to a halt, and he blinked his eyes clear of tears. He glanced out the corner of his eye, searching for his enemy. Calming himself, he inhaled long, slow breaths as his hand slid to the hilt of one of his swords, his focus trained on the approaching stranger through the crackles of dying flames and the shift of ash as they closed in with incredible speed. Closer, and his fingers curled around the grip. Closer still, and he drew a sabre from its sheath, rising in one swift, fluid motion. He pivoted, the blade slicing through the air until it clashed against a black staff with a long, slim diamond glowing at the tip.

Nightlight flinched as their weapons collided, jolted back by North’s attack. Locking his arms, he looked up at North over the crossed weapons with pleading eyes. North blinked, recognising his face and reeled in shock, dropping his weapon to his side.

‘Nightlight...?’ he gasped, staring at him. Nightlight stepped back and cradled his staff close to his body, hanging his head to hide his face as his shoulders trembled, crying silently. North sheathed his sword and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in close. Nightlight clung to him like North was his lifeline, and tears welled in North’s eyes again, threatening to overwhelm him as they stood in the burned wreckage of Katherine’s home.

Eventually, Nightlight pulled away, and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. North gripped his shoulders, his grief mingled with relief that Nightlight was safe and unscathed.

‘Nightlight,’ he began, and his voice cracked, struggling to keep himself together. He could not afford to lose himself to the grief when he was so depended on by others, already planning their next course of action: he would need the Guardians, he would need to call them together and form a plan of attack. He needed to find Ombric and tell him... Tell him...

He needed to know what had happened, first.

‘Nightlight,’ he cleared his throat, tried again. ‘Nightlight, what happened here? Were you here—’

Nightlight's breath hitched, fresh tears welled in his eyes. He dropped his gaze to the ground and shook his head. He covered his eyes with one hand and wrapped his arm around his waist, a fresh wave of sobs racking his body. North pulled him back into a hug, squeezing him tight.

‘Is not your fault,’ he said, attempting to soothe his guilt, while his own was a knife in his chest that twisted every time he looked around at the wreckage. ‘Is not your fault.'

Nightlight shook his head, resting his forehead against North’s chest while he cried, his shoulders shaking with every silent sob until he calmed, wiping his eyes and raking his hand through his hair. He exhaled shakily, clearing his throat and scrubbing his eyes free of tears before he looked up at North and beckoned him to follow, leaping up into the air on a gust of wind. He motioned again for North to follow him through the rubble.

North nodded and Nightlight flew over him, heading deeper into the centre of the wreckage. North followed him through the ashy ruins with slow, careful steps, rubble crunching underfoot. He could see in his mind where he would be if it still stood: he had helped Katherine design and build the library, alongside Ombric and Nightlight and many others who Mother Goose considered her friends. He would have been walking down a long corridor painted the colour of clay now, bordered with mosaic patterns in blues and greens. It would branch off at numerous points, and he would’ve passed the "North Dining Room" by now, with the thick red carpet and dark green drapes. Katherine had named it after him as a joke given the decor --

North stopped as the sorrow swelled inside him. He closed his eyes and braced himself against a broken chunk of wall, ignoring the sting against his skin from the hot stone. He pressed his free hand against his chest, like he could push the feeling away, squash it down until there was nothing left of it. He calmed himself, the pain lingering in his chest. He carried on through the charred ruins despite it, gingerly climbing over mounds of bricks and charred wood, twisted metal pipes and shattered glass until he caught up with Nightlight in front of the large globe that had once marked the heart of the library. Pieces of crumbling bookcases circled it, the globe itself remaining completely untouched, spinning on its axis and dotted with the glowing lights that represented his fellow Legends. North stared at it, unable to stop the memory that forced itself to the surface in his mind; the first day he had seen it, after Goose Library had been completed and the celebrations had wound down after several nights of revelry.

_‘What is this, Katherine?’ North cried out, waving his hand at the newly revealed globe in jest. ‘Are you trying to steal my job?’_

_‘Don’t be silly, North,’ she chuckled, peering through the metalwork of the globe. She cocked her head to the side and looked up at the lights flickering to life, lighting up the globe as the magic extended around the world, connecting the spirits for Katherine to see. ‘I look terrible in red.’_

_'Plus,’ she continued, walking around it so she stood closer to North. ‘These aren’t believers. I don’t watch over the comings and goings of children. These lights represent us, all of us,’ she pointed to the concentrated cluster of light where her library stood in the far north, smiling at them, pride mixed with fondness for her father's newest creation._

_‘They all just look like a bunch a’ little dots t’ me,’ Bunnymund said. He hopped over to where they stood,_ _his nose twitching as he looked up at the globe._

_'Trust me, they’re definitely more than that,’ Katherine defended, and pointed to a lone little light in the north of the Americas. ‘That one showed up a few days ago, I think they’re new to the community.’_

_'Do they have a story?’ Bunnymund asked, cocking his head, watching the light flutter around the small area it occupied on the globe, miles away from the nearest spirit. They didn’t look as if they were going anywhere soon: maybe the poor buggar was bound to the area?_

_‘Everyone has a story, it just depends on what his – or her – story entails,’ Katherine answered. ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’_

_‘I would love to hear the tale: will have big adventure involved, lots of sword fights and excitement,’ North encouraged her, resting one large hand on her shoulder, drawing her close in a half-hug. She smiled, wrapping her arm as far around his back as she could reach and tilted her head so it rested against his large belly. He squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners with happiness._

_‘As long as it doesn’t revolve around bloody Christmas,’ Bunnymund muttered, stippling paint onto the egg he held in his hand. Katherine laughed, patting North’s belly as he started arguing light-heartedly with Bunny in Russian. Bunnymund grinned and replied in Pookan, teasing his friend while Katherine watched them, giggling._

North sucked in a deep breath, the pain returning tenfold and he turned away from the globe. He rubbed his head, covering his eyes as if he could block out everything around him, but he could not ignore the sweltering heat, the hiss and pops of still smouldering rubble or the grief that twisted inside him.

He wiped his face, brushing the tears from his eyes with his fingertips and focused on his breathing, tried to keep himself in some semblance of control. A tapping on his arm made him open his eyes, and Nightlight gestured to the globe with a terrified look on his face. North followed his gaze and returned to it, following Nightlight's gesturing to the lights scattering across the bottom coastline of the African continent. North stared at them, trying to see what Nightlight pointed to on the metal plates.

A light disappeared.

‘ _What_?’ North yelled, stepping back from the globe in shock. He followed the other darting lights, thinking it was a trick of the light or his eyes.

Another disappeared from the globe. Behind him, Nightlight made a sound of distress, wringing his hands around his staff.

A surge of fear rocked North, and he tasted the acid tang of bile at the back of throat. His feet moved of their own accord before his mind caught up, and he scoured the globe – all the different planes and panels and the labelled territories and landmarks - for signs of them. He could not read Katherine's globe like he could his own, but it did not stop him from trying. The Warren was first, easy to find located under Australia, in the heart of the continent and radiating a sprawling mesh of lines across all three realms. A vibrant light shone in the centre of his home: it could only be Bunnymund, safe and sound. Punjam Hy Loo was next, nestled in the mountain ranges of Asia, where the frenzied hub of activity sent out wave upon wave of tiny lights to the human world, and a light also shone there, as bright as all her other little lights put together. Tooth, too, was safe.

Sandy was more difficult to locate, his dream island located in the Bermuda Triangle above the human world and near impossible to trace unless Sandy wanted it to be found. Instead he skirted the globe to the night side, and saw there a light as bright as a star hovering over the human world: Sandy, sending out good dreams to children and adults alike.

Finally, hesitant, he moved back round to North America, worried he would be unable to locate the light, terrified that he had lost more than one young friend this day, but there it was: a light shooting straight for Burgess – a town that was ingrained into all their minds and would remain there evermore – with the speed of one who had mastered the wind. North looked down at his arms just to make sure, covered by the heavy material of his coat, but it didn’t matter: Jack’s name was still scrawled among the millions of others pricked into his skin on his forearms; still on the naughty list. He exhaled, relieved, bracing himself against the globe and rubbed his temples, trying to fit the fractured pieces together.

*

Nightlight hovered behind North at a distance, biting his thumb as he looked at the globe, trying to find a pattern in the disappearances. Only a few lights had disappeared, and at any other time it could be argued that a few smaller, weaker spirits had crossed paths with something bigger and nastier. With Katherine’s death, it had to be connected.

He swiped a hand across his pale cheeks, blinking to get rid of the tears. In the entire muddle that had been his life when he arrived on earth, Katherine had always been there for him, helping him, befriending him. Now, it seemed impossible that she was no longer there, that he could not have been there to protect her. That was what he was meant to _do_. The knowledge he had failed everyone cut through him, the pain akin to stabbing himself with his own blade.

Looking at North, his sorrow intensified: it wasn’t just Katherine he let down. Did Ombric know? Did the other Guardians, her friends, know?

He glanced up as the smoke-clouds parted to expose the beautiful blank sky beyond them, the faint outline of the moon illuminated against the glare of the sun in the early December sky. He wondered if Tsar Lunar had seen it happen, if he had known before any of them what had happened to Katherine. If so, why hadn’t he sent out a warning call? He stared up at the moon, blurred by unshed tears and he wished for answers, for a sign, for _something_ that would explain how this had happened.

He received nothing, the satellite hanging silently in the sky staring down at them. He dropped his gaze away back to North, angry and grieving and feeling lost in turmoil.

He clenched his staff in his fists and darted forward with an angry snarl, and skewered a shadowy, deformed Fearling with the diamond knife that held Moonbeam.

The Fearling collapsed in on itself, its mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. North whirled round, drawing his swords as the rubble shifted, stone grating against stone as more emerged from the wreckage and advanced on them, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. Nightlight raised his staff and turned to guard North’s back: they faced the weaker darkness – the ones that couldn’t work as a pack or coalesce into a Hivemind. There was barely a handful of the original numbers that either of them had once faced. Nightlight was almost insulted by this meagre selection.

The Fearlings circled them, eyeing them hungrily. North spun his swords in his hands, his teeth bared in fury and lunged, stepping to meet them as they leapt forward. Nightlight swept his staff in a long reaching arc against them as they advanced, Moonbeam glowing like starlight as it cut through them.

More emerged from the wreckage, drawn to the noise and sense of battle above them, leaping into the fray. He kept them all at the distance of his staff, lunging and pivoting as he defended and attacked in turn while North allowed them to come closer, slashing and hacking at them with his two swords, close to a berserker state in his fury. Fuelled by the rage at the loss of Katherine, the two of them met the growing number head on, cutting through the ranks as they protected each other. 

Three Fearlings converged on Nightlight, gnashing their jagged teeth and gurgling deep in the back of their throats. He jabbed one with the butt of his staff, sending it stumbling back before stabbing the blade into the chest of the second. The third leapt, and he drew back his weapon, spinning it in both hands before slashing downwards, slicing it open from head to pelvis. It melted into darkness, an acrid smell rising from it as the ash boiled the thick, black sludge. A stray lunged from twisted metal between them and leapt onto North's back, clinging to his back and tearing at his coat. Swearing in Russian, North twisted, trying to throw it off and Nightlight spun, bringing Moonbeam down to spear it only for another to hook its claws around his elbow and yank him off balance. He stumbled, and several Fearlings snatched the advantage and converged, scrambling over each other to claw at them with long, hooked fingers. A sword dropped from North's hand, and he used it to grab them, dragging them off and slicing through them with his remaining blade. He gripped the one that had leapt onto his back by the throat and pulled it over his shoulder, throwing it at the group around Nightlight, knocking them away from him.

‘They’re gaining number!’ North said. Nightlight nodded, wiping blood from his face as he stumbled to his feet and kicked hot ash into the face of one that was too close. It stumbled back, flailing as Moonbeam sank into its chest. North grabbed his sword from the ground and pivoted, the blade slicing through another Fearling. More jumped over the fallen corpses, forcing them into retreat until they stood back to back. North dropped one sword again, brought his fingers to his lips and whistled for the reindeer, knowing they would hear. The stragglers they faced could not be enough to kill Katherine and destroy her library; there had to be more on the loose, attacking and hunting the other spirits. Nightlight slashed through one only to have another take its place.

‘The sleigh!’ North cried again. ‘We must get to the –’

The Fearlings surged up from beneath their feet, wrapping around their legs and sliding upwards. North slashed at it with his swords, only for the thick, tar-like sludge to pull back and snap forward, trapping them and latching onto his hands. Nightlight raised Moonbeam above his head and brought it down to slice the creature, but it split itself around the blade and wrapped its inky black tendrils up the length of the staff. Teeth and claws snapped and ripped at them as the creatures began to swarm up and over them, piling onto them and smothering them in darkness. They struggled against the overwhelming tide as more and more crawled over them, the Fearlings merging till they were engulfed in a solid cage of darkness.

A quiet stillness returned to the ruins around them.

The moon glowed.

The Fearlings raised their eyes towards the sky, the clouds parting to reveal the moon's light. Inside the chrysalis of darkness, in the diamond tip of Nightlight's staff, Moonbeam began to glow, pulsing brighter and brighter.

Nightlight’s eyes snapped open.

He gripped his staff, a flare of blinding white energy exploded from the crystal, engulfing them in warm light. Cracks spider webbed across the surface, the incandescent light escaping through the thin fissures. The Fearlings screeched and snarled as a second wave shook the prison, and with a shattering finality it exploded into fragments, sending the remaining darkness flying back.

North and Nightlight stumbled free, covered in acrid smelling sludge and dust, blood dripping from their faces, their clothes stuck against their skin. Moonbeam shone at the tip of Nightlight’s staff, pulsing with light.

They stood beside each other, gasping for breath in the silence that followed, bodies littering the ground, quickly decaying.

A reindeer grunted from the side of the ash circle, making them jump. Vixen shook her head, braying and Cupid answered her from the front of the paired lines.

North sheathed his swords, standing up straight and tall. ‘We must get back to pole, I need to call others.’

‘Not just the Guardians,’ Nightlight murmured, breaking his silence. He looked up to the sky. North followed his gaze, staring up at the parting clouds around the moon. It gave no answers.

North sighed, shaking his head as he turned and walked back to the sleigh. ‘There is no way to call everyone. It has never happened before in any of our lives.’

‘It’s about to.’

Nightlight shot into the air, leaving North behind, watching him fly away. The wind whipped at his hair and clothes, disappearing into the heavy black smoke-cloud. The acrid smell of burning invaded his nose until he burst out of them in rapid ascent, wiping his face with the back of his arm, pretended his tears were from the sting of smoke. Moonbeam began to glow brighter, pulsing rapidly as if she knew what to do. Nightlight let her guide him higher and higher, higher than many spirits could ever reach. Higher still, until he could see the stars he’d travelled through thousands of years past. He acted on instinct and gripped his staff in his hands, closing his eyes as the core of the diamond dagger burned blindingly white, the cut edges sending a dazzling, broken array of light fractals dancing around him.

In a flash, the light exploded outwards and thousands of lights – tiny little splinters of Moonbeam - flew across the sky like shooting stars, leaving long, blazing trails in their wake. Every spirit across the realms would be able to see them no matter where they were, the fragments of Moonbeam travelling around the world in haste, delivering the same message to everyone to see: _Follow us. Follow us to the North Pole._

The mermaids breaking the surface of the oceans saw the reflection in the water, and dived back under the waves to the deeps to deliver the news to their kingdoms. The Fae halted their dances and preparations for Winter Solstice, whispering among their courts at the sight of the dancing, spiralling lights. Slumbering spirits were roused from their sleep by the whispers from the stars, looking to the sky in search of answers. In the shadow of an old, dilapidated building, Pitch Black turned away from the night show that would confuse human meteorologists with the sudden activity, avoiding both the shadows and the light as best as he could lest he gain unwanted attention from either side.

*

North waited patiently by the sleigh for his return, still poised for an ambush when Nightlight finally descended back to earth, stumbling as he hit the ground. North strode to his side and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, keeping him upright.

‘Nightlight, you used far too much energy,’ he scolded without anger. Nightlight just shook his head, slumping against North. He was half asleep by the time North eased him into the sleigh and climbed up himself, shrugging off his coat and tucking it around him. He sat beside Nightlight and looked around one last time at the devastated landscape that he no longer recognised. The splintered pain in his chest flared, and he picked up the reigns in his hand and snapped them with a sharp flick of his wrist, driving the reindeer into the air to return to the North Pole.


	3. Reunion

The bell rang, loud and shrill, and students flooded out the school doors, dashing off to enjoy the last of the light on the early December day. Jamie slung his bag over his shoulder and squinted at the low sun, oblivious to the teenager sneaking up behind him until he tumbled down the steps, jarring his limbs against the stone. His knee and hands scraped against the ground, and his books flew from his bag, clattering down the stairs.

‘Loser,’ someone laughed, a satchel thumping into the back of his head. He grimaced, his hand flying to his head as he sat back.

'Weirdo,’ another called. ‘Watch out for the bogeyman.’

‘Get lost, you bunch of jerks!’ Pippa yelled over him. She crouched down beside him, her hand on his back. He looked up and saw the quiet, angry concern in her big brown eyes. Her gaze dropped to his bloody hands and the rip in his jeans, exposing the angry graze the concrete had scoured into his skin. She scowled, her glare finding the group of boys laughing and jeering as they made their way out of school grounds, pushing past other people and tripping the unlucky few that didn’t get out of their way in time.

Jamie looked down and rubbed his hands against his jeans, like it didn't bother him, while his friends rushed to his side. Cupcake grabbed his forearm and hauled him to his feet, while Monty grabbed his bag to help Claude and Caleb pick up his scattered work, unfolding the pages that had gotten crumpled and smoothing out paperbacks. People walked around them at a wide berth with their heads down and their eyes averted. Cupcake’s glare warned off anyone who decided to gawk at them, their reputation circulating for years and isolating them from everyone else. After all, how many teenagers genuinely believed in the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus and the Bogeyman?

‘You okay, Jamie?’ Monty asked, handing Jamie’s bag back to him and burying his hands in his coat pockets. Jamie nodded and brushed himself off, wincing at the sting in his hands.

‘Yeah, I’m all right.’ He looked at his scratched hands, red and raw and streaked with blood, and then down at his torn jeans with a frown.

‘Terry and his friends are idiots,’ Caleb added, scratched his chin. ‘I’ll get ‘em at kickboxing.’

‘Don’t,’ Jamie said, shaking his head. Caleb didn't need a busted lip or a bruised face - or worse, if they all ganged up on him. Claude was more practiced in MMA at a separate gym, unable to interfere during training hours, and had ended up in and out of detention for nearly six months when he'd fought outnumbered with three of them in the school corridors after seeing the damage done to his younger twin. He had pulled back when he realised the disadvantages of after-school or weekend detention, leaving his friends one down on the walk home from school or on Saturdays at the park.

‘Please, Caleb,’ Jamie asked again, and Caleb frowned. ‘Just leave it.’

‘Well, whatever,’ Cupcake grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. She nodded at his injuries. ‘Should we see if the nurse is still in to check those?’

Jamie frowned. A visit to the nurse would mean questions that he’d either have to answer or lie. Both risked getting his mother involved, and there wasn’t an outcome to that situation that wouldn’t upset her, because at the core of the matter was why he always ended up a target. She didn’t mind talk of the Guardians around Sophie during the holidays, but he knew that if she heard of one more incident of him being bullied because of his belief in them she would lose patience with him.

‘Maybe Grandma Burgess can help,’ he suggested instead, using the well-known nickname nearly everyone in town had for Sonja Valker, who ran a foster home in the suburbs of town. She wasn’t a grandmother herself, the nickname cropping up over the years of looking after kids under her care and around Burgess. Jamie’s earliest memory of her was from when he was about five years old, Sophie still a baby and Grandma Burgess helping his mother after his father had passed away.

‘Come on, then,’ Claude said, nodding towards the gates. ‘Maybe she’ll even have snacks!’

The group perked up at the thought of free food – particularly Sonja's home made snacks – and headed towards the school gates. Jamie slung his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the sting in his hands and knee as he followed them, when he slipped on a patch of ice.

He yelped as his feet slid out from under him, crashing into the others.

‘Jam-eeee!’ Pippa yelped, losing her balance. She accidentally grabbed Monty’s hood, pulling him down with her as the ice spread. Claude, Caleb and Cupcake hurriedly retreated to avoid it, bumped into each other and tripped in the tangle of their feet. Jamie, the last one still standing, tried to put his weight on his uninjured leg. It skidded out from under him, throwing him onto the pile of bodies.

‘Ow,’ he huffed. He pushed himself up, looking around in confusion as soft, lazy flakes fluttered down from the sky. They hadn’t had snowfall yet this winter: the weather report had said it would be cold and maybe wet, but no snow. One small flake hit the tip of his nose, dispersing in a burst of blue-white dust, and happiness rolled over him, chasing away his worries for a brief moment. He chuckled behind his closed lips, before his face broke out in a grin when he realised what he had done. That could only mean one thing.

*

Jack dropped to the ground in a rush of wind and a swirl of sparkling snowflakes. He crouched low, one hand in the pocket of his hoodie, while the other wrapped around the  wooden Shepherd's crook resting over his shoulder. He grinned as snow fluttered from the sky in gentle swirls of white-blue flakes, imbued with a light spark to brighten the afternoon, and when it landed on the seven teenagers in front of him, he felt a short burst of fun take hold. ‘Hey guys, what’re you all lying around for? I thought we’d have some fun.'

‘Jack, we’re totally going to kick your butt once we get off this ice,’ Claude said, pushing Monty off his lap and tried to stand. Jack pressed his free hand against his chest, feigning wide eyed innocence.

‘Me? What did I do?’ he asked, failing to smother his grin. From the pile, Jamie pushed himself clear of the others and scrambled to his feet, wobbling on the ice. Jack chuckled and stood up, hooking the Shepherd’s crook around Jamie's waist and yanking him off the ice. Jamie stumbled onto solid ground, and didn't stop as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Jack, burying his face into his shoulder. Jack stumbled back, surprised, before he relaxed into the hug, a smile on his face.

'Hey, guys? Help?’ Caleb asked, tossing his bag at Jack and Jamie’s feet. Jack chuckled, and ruffled Jamie’s hair as they broke apart and began pulling their friends onto their feet. they greeted Jack with high fives and hugs as soon as they were standing, talking at the same time in a rush of excitement. His eyes flicked between them, matching their faces to the ones he knew from five years ago as he allowed them to drag him out the school gates.

‘Dude, you’ve been gone forever!’ Caleb said. ‘What were you doing, building an ice army or something?’

Jack laughed, shaking his head. ‘No ice armies. I have more believers though!’

He spun around and walked backwards in front of the group, swinging his staff across his shoulders and gripping it like a milkmaid’s yolk. He tapped his fingers across the rough wood and bounced on the balls of his feet. ‘Most of them are up in Europe, around Scandinavia. They say my name differently there, but they see me! It’s great.’

‘Jack, that’s fantastic,’ Jamie cheered. Jack grinned, until Jamie's hands caught his eye and he did a double take, his smile disappearing.

‘Jamie, what happened?’ he asked, slowing. He looked down, and saw the torn jeans and the red knee under the fabric. His face fell, guilt creeping in to smother his joy. ‘Did that happen on the ice?’

‘Uh, no,’ Jamie replied, tucking his hands into his pockets to hide them. ‘I fell, before you arrived.’

‘So what happens with more believers?’ Claude asked, quickly changing the subject. ‘Do you get a power boost or something? Like an upgrade?’

‘I might get stronger, like the other Guardians,’ Jack said, glancing at Jamie again before he shrugged, and nodded his head down at his body clad in a frosted blue hoodie and the ratty brown pants with leather binding around his calves. ‘Not many upgrades in the wardrobe department.’

‘Looks like you guys got some upgrades, though,’ he added with a crooked smile, looking at each of his original believers. Where they once stood barely reaching his chest, now it would only take one growth spurt for them to tower over him. There were still remnants of the little kids they used to be: Pippa and Caleb had hats crammed over their heads past their ears, and Claude wore a sport shirt that was too big for him. Monty was still as skinny as ever, with gangly limbs and oversized glasses, and Cupcake was clad all in pink, towering over the others. When Jamie smiled, his left central incisor was crooked from where it grew in at an angle. They didn't look much different from how he imagined they'd grown up, when they’d spring to mind every so often while he tried to get more believers, bringing a bitter-sweet, aching tug in his chest.

Cupcake scoffed, shaking her head. ‘Yeah, yeah, Peter Pan, we grow up – Jack _watch out_!’

Jack spun around, too slow: pins and needles splintered across his skin until his whole body tingled. Underneath that, unfamiliar to him; an agonising, building squeeze in the hollow of his chest, like someone had grabbed hold of his insides and wrung them in their fist. He stumbled with a cry, clutching at his chest, bracing himself against the low wall beside him. His vision swam in front of him, his breath left him in a sudden rush as he felt himself collapsing into nothingness.

‘Jack!’

The kids crowded round him as he slumped further down the wall and curled up on himself, struggling to breathe. He blinked, focused on the pavement beneath him and the rough, gritty texture under his feet, the cracked lines through it where the cold had seeped in and fractured it. He took a deep breath, trying to find his equilibrium, his mind trying to convince his trembling body he hadn't disappeared into nothingness.

The kids crowded round him, their hands on his shoulders, his back, pulling him up onto his feet, anchoring him. The faux implosion still rocked him, shooting straight through to his centre. His skin prickled, itching with the phantom remnants of being walked through and he leaned back, the rough stone of the wall scratching his skin through his hoodie, another reminder he hadn't disappeared. His body rebelled at the echo of the sensation that rolled through his body and he hunched over, bracing one hand on his knee and one hand on his staff.

‘That wasn’t right,’ he whispered. 

'What did you say, Jack?'

He took several deep, long breaths before he looked up, squinting through the spots that flashed in front of his vision, seeking out the cause of the foreign pain. A young, dark haired girl walked across the road, just down from where they stood, her movements slow and jerky. When she looked back over her shoulder, Jack saw the dull, dead look in her grey eyes, smudged with sleeplessness and exhaustion. He pushed himself away from the wall as the young girl turned away and kept walking, blind to his presence. ‘That wasn’t right.’

‘Jack? Jack – hey, woah!’ Jamie called out as Jack pushed past them and dashed after the girl, scrubbing his eyes and stumbling into a glide, his believers chasing after him. He caught up with the girl and hovered in front of her, studying her. Her eyes were just as dead up close as they were at a distance, bloodshot and straining, the dark circles a sharp contrast against her washed out complexion.

‘Hey! Hey, wait a minute!’ Jamie called, and the girl looked over her shoulder with a frown, slowing down as they caught up to her.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, her contempt weakened by exhaustion. ‘Still talking to _Jack Frost_?’

‘Um,’ Jamie said, glancing at Jack. Jack stepped down from the air and shook his head, keeping his eyes on the girl.

‘Uh, hi, Hayley,’ Pippa said. ‘We just wanted to ask how you’re feeling. You’ve looked a bit under the weather the past few days.’

‘It’s a cold,’ Hayley said dismissively. ‘ _Normal_ people get them _all_ the time, this time of year, you know. Maybe your magical boyfriend gives you some kind of special immunity, but the rest of us don’t.’

Pippa scowled, her cheeks blotted bright pink in annoyance as Hayley turned away from her. 'You-'

‘Guys,’ Jack said quickly, stepping out of the way as the girl started walking down the street again. ‘Her neck.’

The kids looked at each other, confused, before they jogged after Hayley again.

‘Uh, Hayley,’ Pippa said. Hayley glared over her shoulder at her.

‘Ugh! _What_?’

‘What happened to your neck?’

Hayley reached up and wrapped her hand around her neck, rubbing it. The irritation drained from her and Jack saw the scared teenager Hayley was, standing in front of him.

‘I must have scratched it in my sleep,’ she muttered, before her tone became acidic again. ‘It’s fine, it’s just a scratch. Anything else you weirdos want?’

‘No,’ Jamie said, glancing at Jack. ‘Have a good afternoon.’

She huffed and flounced off, disappearing round the corner at the end of the street.

‘Well, she’s definitely going on the naughty list,’ Jack murmured, scratching the back of his head.

‘Jack?’ Jamie asked, and Jack looked at him. ‘What was that about?’

‘She had a bright red mark on her neck – like a cut,’ he explained, and drew his fingertip across his own neck. ‘It looked like it wasn't healing.’

‘She’s been feeling ill for a few days now,’ Cupcake explained. ‘You think that’s caused it somehow?’

‘It could just be a cold,’ Monty suggested. ‘She does have most of the symptoms, although attending school might not be a wise choice given how fast it can spread-’

Claude gave him a light shove and rolled his eyes, cutting off his lecture. Monty frowned and rubbed his arm where Claude had pushed him. Seeing his hurt expression, Claude looped his arm around his shoulders in an apologetic hug, digging his free hand into his own jacket pocket as he turned to Jack. ‘So, what’s the deal? She said she just scratched it, could be the explanation.’

Jack shook his head and leaned his weight on his staff, rubbing his chest as the ache persisted. He blinked through the flashing spots in front of his eyes, every time he moved his head he got a head rush, dizziness overwhelming him and making his nauseated. ‘No, I think there’s something else to it. When she walked through me, it wasn’t just painful; it was like... She was like a walking black hole.’

‘We could’ve told you that,’ Caleb snorted.

‘Caleb!’ Pippa admonished.

‘What? It’s not like she’s any different from everyone else at school,’ he defended, raising his hands defensively. Pippa frowned, folding her arms across her narrow chest as she stared at the corner Hayley had disappeared around, biting her lip.

‘Still, if something hurt her, maybe we should try to help?’ Jamie suggested. 

‘Yeah sure, let’s all just pick up our stakes and become vampire slayers,’ Cupcake replied.

‘It wouldn't be a vampire,’ Monty said. Claude stared at him, unimpressed.

‘Seriously? Out of all the things that exist, out of all the things that might exist, vampires’ are where we draw the line?’

‘I didn’t say they don’t exist, I said it wouldn’t be a vampire that attacked her,’ Monty replied.

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Vampire’s bite, they don’t cut--’

‘Not all the legends are one hundred percent accurate.’

‘Well, they’ve been around this long without many deviations, I’m pretty sure some things will be fact.’

‘It might not be the bite thing though—’

Jack tuned out their arguments and turned away, closing his eyes and rested against the wall behind him. He wasn't a stranger to the pain of being walked through, and it still happened even with his slowly growing number of believers: usually when he forgot himself, strayed too close to large groups of people while he had fun. Usually he was able to shake it off after a few minutes and return to the fun and games, even if his mood would be dampened for the rest of the day.

This was different; this sent a shock straight through him, a black hole gaping wide inside him in the brief moment Hayley had walked through him. He exhaled heavily, pressing his hand flat against his chest and tipped his head back. He wanted to lie down and rest, maybe sleep off the weariness and the pain in his chest and the growing headache. His mood soured at the thought of a wasted day with his original believers, pressing his hand harder against his chest till it became uncomfortable.

\-- _North Pole_.

He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his hand to his staff, battling whether he should seek out North and explain what had happened, in case the Guardians needed to deal with it. If nothing else, North might be able to explain what had just happened to him – maybe sick kids just left a different feeling when they walked through them, maybe being ill made it less likely to feel fun or wonder or anything and it resonate with their centres. It would suck, but it would be an explanation that would get rid of the anxiety in the pit of his stomach, and he could return to Burgess to have some fun. 

\-- _To the North Pole_.

Five years though: he hadn't found the time to visit North or Tooth or Bunny. Every time he decided he’d pay them a visit, he’d hear his name or see a group of kids having fun and he’d get distracted, hoping to gain believers. He’d feel stupid if he wasted both their times flying to North’s in a panic and it turned out to be something normal, especially so close to Christmas. North would be so busy, he wouldn't have time to deal with Jack overreacting to something minor.

Jack rolled his staff between his hands, huffing a breath as he bumped his forehead against the crook. Sometimes he felt like he had no idea what he was doing, being a Guardian.

\-- _North Pole!_

Even trying to talk himself out of disturbing North, he couldn't deny the strong temptation to visit, even if it was to selfishly soothe his own worries during North's month. It was a good excuse to visit him without being distracted—

\-- _NORTH POLE!_

His eyes flew open as he realised the nagging in his head wasn’t his own internal voice telling him what to do. He looked around for the source of the voice, when something flickered in his peripheral vision, and he tilted his head back further, his gaze rising skywards. High above over their heads, a blazing white light shot across the darkening sky, leaving a long, glowing trail behind it as it soared north, flickering as it arced through the air.

‘-- what?’ he murmured, squinting up at it. He strained to listen to the wispy voice, faint amidst the throbbing in his head.

_Follow..._

_Follow us to the North Pole..._

_Follow us..._

‘What is that?’ Cupcake asked, following Jack's line of sight. Everyone’s attention turned to the bright light above their heads, their necks craned back to stare up at it.

‘A shooting star?’ Caleb suggested.

‘Meteors disintegrate as they fall through the atmosphere, which is why you only see them in short bursts,’ Monty said automatically. ‘That doesn’t look like a meteor.’

Jack didn’t say anything, unable to tear his eyes off of it as he focused on the soft, persistent whispering. _Follow us. Follow us to the North Pole._

North always sent out the auroras. That's how he called the Guardians; Jack had kept an eye out for it in case he had been needed, but they had never shown up across the sky; not the uniform lines of multicoloured lights that differed from the natural Aurora Borealis in the northern hemisphere. He didn’t recognise this form of communication, but he understood the urgent message clearly: the Guardians needed him.

‘Guys,’ he said. ‘I have to go.’

He pushed himself away from the wall and took a few steps away from the group, gripping his staff in his hand as he prepared to launch himself in the air.

‘Wait, what?’ Pippa asked, jerking her head round to stare at him.

‘But you only just got here,’ Caleb added. Jack hesitated, and he turned apologetically to them, raising his hands in truce.

‘I know, I know, but,’ he trailed off, looking back at the shooting light. ‘I think the Guardians need me; I think there might be trouble. I have to go.’

‘What should we do?’ Jamie asked. Jack paused, thinking. If trouble was stirring, the Guardians might need their help again.

‘See if you can find out what has happened to Hayley,’ he asked. ‘Try to find anything that would cause her to look like that and feel like a black hole.’

‘Got it,’ Jamie said, nodding determinedly. That didn’t stop Jack from noticing the disappointment in his eyes, and Jack offered a tight lipped smile. He reached over and squeezed Jamie’s shoulder.

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,’ he said. Jamie nodded, smiling back at him. Jack released his shoulder, clapping it once before he ran and leapt onto a gust of wind and sped off up into the air, heading straight for the path left by the trail of light.

The kids watched him fly off till he was just a dark speck in the sky, chasing after the strange light. Jamie turned to the others, hitching his bag up onto his shoulder. ‘Come on, we’ve got some research to do.’

‘Homework, yay,’ Claude said sarcastically. ‘That’s totally what I was looking forward to this afternoon.’

‘Hey, we might prove the existence of vampires and become famous,’ Cupcake joked.

‘It’s not going to be a vampire!’ Monty stressed again, and the twins laughed, joking with him as they wandered home.

*

Jack closed in on the trail of light and looped around its long, shimmering trail of light, squinting against the brightness. It definitely wasn’t a shooting star, like the kids had thought; he could sense the magic at its source, and it glowed the same way the moon did. Curiosity winning over wariness, he dared fly closer to the dazzling light it left in its wake, white sparks scattering to the wind. He snatched at a few, and raised his eyebrows: it was pleasantly warm, and it left a strange, tingling sensation against his cold skin, like entering a warm room after being outside all day.

He chuckled, wiggling his fingers as the warmth faded. Glancing at the ball of light leaving the trail, he flew closer and reached out to touch it.

It jumped away from his outstretched hand and spun away in a flustered twirl. Jack snatched his hand back, startled to a halt, and he watched it curve back onto its original path ahead of him.

_Odd._

He flew after it, looped under its tail and approached it from the other side hesitantly. As soon as he got too close it skittered away, hopping across the winds to gain distance on Jack. It was _sentient_. Whatever was at the centre, emitting the light, was some kind of spirit. It piqued his curiosity even more. He allowed it to travel on, hanging back to put some distance between them.

‘Hey, wind?’ he whispered to the breeze around him. The breeze pulled at his hoodie and ruffled his hair, urging him to play. He laughed and readied himself for the game. ‘Let’s go!’

He bolted after the light, diving at it like a falcon and it shot off wildly to one side, startled. He followed it, laughing as he began the chase across the skies.

A wily, acrobatic little thing, it looped and twisted and spun out of his reach, leaving serpentine trails behind it. It even stopped at one point, double backed on itself and shot past Jack’s ear, racing back the way it came just as he’d pivoted mid air to follow it. It seemed to be warming up to him and the game as they travelled further north, the air getting gradually colder and the sky turning molten red and orange as the sun began to set. Clouds obscured their path, and Jack wove around them with ease, trying to sneak up on his glowing companion as it zipped straight through the clouds, unperturbed by their presence. It even used them to its advantage: Jack would take the lead and wait for it on the other side of the cloud it entered, only to have it jump out at him from the side, circle him and fly off again, teasing him.

Eventually, he managed to get close enough and rolled onto his back alongside it, an idea forming in his head. It edged away shyly, but didn’t flee, curious.

‘Hey, you think you’re fast?’ he called to it. It hopped along the wind, as if to say _of course_. ‘Try this then!’

He swung around and shot ahead, leaving the glowing ball of light behind. The wind whistled, carding through his hair and swirling round his limbs as he dived under a large cumulus, swinging up and over the next one. Faster and faster he went, his eyes watering, the droplets freezing on his eyelashes before they fully formed. He barrel-rolled in the air onto his back and buried his free hand into his hoodie pocket, grinning at the light as it chased after him determinedly, slowly gaining on him. He rolled back over and sped on until he finally shot through a large cloud in his path. Bursting out of the other side, he saw the Workshop in the distant mountains and grinned, before he stopped short, floundering in the air as he dragged himself to a halt.

Across the glittering white landscape, hundreds of figures converged on the icy range of mountains where North's home sat, led by the same lights that spiralled around the highest tower of North’s home, illuminating it in silver light. Dark blots peppered the sky like black stars, circling the mountain peaks as they flew towards the Workshop. The majority of the travellers walked or ran on their own - two, four, more - feet, carrying lanterns and wrapped in swathes of vivid, decorated clothing, if they needed any, the colour of their skin and the decorations on their clothes hinting at their origins from around the globe. Many of those who were human, or at least half, in appearance rode in fantastical chariots of bizarre creation, organic and otherworldly at the same time, glowing torches of flameless light mounted on the front. Others rode on the the back of incredible creatures – stags with long, curving antlers stretching down the length of their back that leapt as high as Jack could fly, horses with eight legs and dogs the size of bears, the long tails of the riders' coats and cloaks billowing in the wind behind them like living scenes from fairy tales. Some rode with company, and those that huddled together against the chill of the frozen Arctic watched sullenly as those unaffected by the cold embraced it, easing their way gracefully across the snowy plain.

His own guiding light shot past him with a sense of purpose and caught up to the others, unfazed by the masses while Jack openly stared. After three hundred years, he had only ever encountered a handful of spirits – holiday spirits like North and Bunny, the Groundhog and the sweet Beltane of the World Wheel, who disliked the cold so he avoided her out of civility. He had had a brief altercation with the April Fool a few decades past, who didn’t like other pranksters, and of course everyone knew of the Bogeyman. There had been other brief glimpses and quick acknowledgements from spirits throughout the years, lone beings who kept their own company, pausing long enough for Jack to realise he wasn't imagining them.

The wind, impatient, did not give him time to process the realisation of a world full of more spirits than he thought possible, pulling at his hoodie and whipping through his hair, begging him to get a closer look. Curiosity grew within him, the fun and excitement in discovering the unknown sparking across his skin, like an itch that needed to be scratched. The wind pulled at him again, and he hesitated only briefly before he flew forward to investigate, staying high in the air, avoiding a large raven with a wing span twice as long as Jack was tall as it passed over him. Three half-bird women followed close behind, woven shawls wrapped over their feathered shoulders and flapping around their aquiline feet. The leader smiled at him and showed off a row of sharp, shark-like teeth. He darted away from her in shock and nearly collided with an archer, his bow and arrow strapped between large feathered wings in shifting pinks and reds and oranges.

'Woah! Sorry! I'm so sorry,' Jack said, righting himself. The archer nodded in acknowledgement, his thin lips quirked up in an amused smile before he flew on ahead.

Jack slowed, hovering mid air as he collected himself. On the ground, a large fox trailing nine fiery tails collided with two giant canines, leaping playfully in the air in greeting. They chased after each other, rolling around in the snow as others tried to avoid them, irritated by their rowdiness. They didn't care, having too much fun to pay attention to the sombre crowd.

Jack smiled as he watched them, his centre sparking in the presence of their harmless joy. An idea started to form in his head, turning his smile into a grin. The initial shock had worn off, even the harpy women no longer cause for startle, and now he itched to get a closer look at everyone. They all looked so serious and focused, keeping to themselves and their own travelling parties, and Jack decided that maybe they needed to loosen up a little bit. The wind swirled around him, curious at what he had planned.

‘Come on wind, let’s go!’ he said as he leapt onto his staff like it was a surfboard, and dropped.

The wind whistled in his ear as he plummeted to the ground in corkscrew spirals, laughing and whooping in excitement. Heads turned to watch his rapid descent, confused, shocked stares following his path as he dived. The wind whipped through his hair and gusted up through his hoodie; it pulled at the crook of his staff and sent him into erratic loops as he spun through the air, dropping faster and faster.

He bit his lip through his grin, squinting at the fast approaching ground as he calculated his course and leapt off his staff, grabbed it in one hand and swung up, the force of it kicking up powdered snow over anyone who was in the close proximity.

‘Whoops! Sorry!’ he called over his shoulder as angry yells and startled shrieks followed him through the crowd, fading into the distance as he sped away. He looped around the spirits in his way, flying so fast they became a blur of colours as he flew past them. He swung his staff in a wide, curving arc behind him, trailing frost particles infused with the spark of magic from his centre. It settled on everyone in a light dusting of frost, in their hair and across their faces. As he approached the front of the crowd, he slowed down just enough to catch the sight on some of their faces when the frost touched the tips of their noses, chuckling as their confusion melted into cheerfulness, light sparking in their eyes. Cheers replaced the complaints, greetings and encouragement following him instead of threats and insults.

The coyote, the wolf and the fox with too many tails drew up beside him, racing him across the snow. He looked at them out the corner of his eye, relishing the challenge: he’d flown alongside animals over the centuries when he’d been bored, testing how fast he could fly and he had always won. These weren’t ordinary creatures though, their eyes beyond that of normal animals, and he pushed himself further and faster as they hurtled through the snow drift, weaving around the other travellers, bumping shoulders to try to take the lead. He looked over his shoulder as a shadow passed over him, the archer and the raven leading a flock of other flying spirits in the race behind him, rolling and diving over each other as they tried to get ahead.

Jack laughed in delight as they broke past the barrier of the front line, and he sped away from them; cheers and laughter fuelled him on, shooting into the air above them as he fast approached the Workshop. The walls loomed in front of him, and he laughed, ready for another risk as adrenaline surged, the threat of danger building within the sense of fun, the walls closing in rapidly. Jack waited until the last possible moment before he twisted himself to slow his flight, shooting straight up the side, so close he could see the cracks and chips in the stone.

The wind followed him to the highest spires of North’s workshop where Jack paused beside an open window, laughing breathlessly as he crowed, loud and joyful, looking back at the distance between himself and the spirits he had raced.

‘Alright, Wind! That was – _oof_!’ A heavy weight crashed into his chest and sent him through the open window of the tower. His staff clattered to the floor, and he followed it, his head slamming against the polished wood so he saw stars... oh, no, those were lights shooting in through the window. He groaned, blinking away the tears in his eyes: he had just gotten rid of his earlier headache. He groaned again as he rubbed his hand over his face, sprawled out on the floor. He lay there until he was ready to struggle onto his hands and knees, and looked around blearily for what had caused the pain at his sternum, when a tiny figure – no bigger than Baby Tooth and glowing with shimmering white light – stumbled to its feet beside him, dazed.

‘A faerie?’ he mumbled, his head still reeling from the impact with the floor. Reaching out a hand, he scooped up what he assumed was a faerie and brought it close to his face, studying it. It was made out of pure light, vibrating with energy and looked as bewildered as him, sitting in his palm. It looked up at him and he could tell it was unimpressed. The vibrating increased till it buzzed and it jumped up, unsteady in the air. It hovered in front of his face and wagged a finger at him, the buzzing increasing till it was a steady drone in his ears.

‘Hey, woah,’ he said, raising his hands in front of him as a sign of truce, curling his legs under him and sitting back. ‘You ran into me, little guy. You pack quite a punch too!’

It buzzed some more, like an angry hornet, before it zipped away. Jack's gaze followed it, and his confusion returned three fold as he stared at the young man across the room from him.

He stood by the fire place, holding a black spear tipped with a glowing diamond. He stared at Jack with a look that Jack imagined mirrored his own, much like the rest of him: pure white hair haloed his face, soft wisps curling down across sharp, pale green eyes. Were it not for the colour of his eyes and the black and silver armour he wore, Jack would be convinced he stood face to face with his twin. The stranger's thin, solemn mouth pinched at the corners, too serious for someone who looked so young, his pale skin emitting a soft glow that made him look like a spectre. The lights – or faeries, or whatever they were – were drawn to him and the blade of his staff, the large diamond absorbing them and making it shine brighter. He stared at Jack with apprehension, his eyes puffy and rimmed red, black smudges sitting heavy underneath them as if he hadn't slept in days.

Jack continued to stare. He couldn’t be a new Guardian; North would have called them all together. Maybe.

Why would they bring in a new Guardian so soon after Jack?

The mystery surrounding the spectral boy grew, and Jack dragged himself to his feet, wincing in pain. He dusted himself off and kicked his staff up into his hand, twirling it so it rested across his shoulder and he began to walk off the residual ache. He’d probably bruise, but it wasn’t high on his list of concerns: a few knocks and bumps were all part of the fun. He scratched his fingers through his hair, kept his eyes roaming around the room, giving him time to clear his head, collecting and sifting through the questions in his mind. This stranger... Jack couldn’t stare at him for too long without feeling uncomfortable. He clearly had the same wary opinion of Jack, standing awkwardly by the fire as more lights flew in through the window, returning to his staff – another mystery, and one that he didn’t seem ready to answer any time soon.

Finally, Jack stopped and turned to him, a hesitant smile on his lips.

‘Um... hi?’ he ventured, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. 'Sorry about that... uh, your little... light? Are they okay?'

The stranger said nothing, and Jack cocked his head to one side, studying him. ‘Not much of a talker? Maybe you’re just shy?’

He was met with further silence and he huffed out a breath, carding his fingers through his hair. A new tactic was needed, then. He relaxed, smiled.

‘I should probably introduce myself, since I just dropped in,’ he joked. ‘I’m Jack, Jack Frost.’

He stepped forward, raising his hand to shake when the spectral boy recoiled, and Jack faltered, halting in his tracks.

The silence returned, and Jack dropped his hand to his side, awkward and embarrassed. The strange boy turned away, swallowing, focusing on the bright lights swirling around him. After a brief pause, Jack turned away and jumped up onto the back of a large sofa, walking along it like a tightrope towards the door. He could feel the boy gazing at him out the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze down, focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he neared the end of the sofa.

‘I have to find North and the others,’ he said. His headache had returned, and the roaring fire made the room stuffy and claustrophobic, even with all the windows lying wide open. Worse, his skin prickled at the sight of the stranger. Jack wondered if he had the same effect on him, their discomfort mirroring each other. He looked over at the spectral boy, meeting his eyes as he stared at Jack, unreadable. ‘The Guardians? You know who I mean?’

The stranger rolled his eyes, and Jack scowled, feeling his cheeks frost with embarrassment. He opened his mouth, ready to say something when the door swung open and the gruff, scratchy snapping of a six foot one Australian rabbit cut him off, his attention focused over his shoulder at the large, tired looking Cossack behind him as he grumbled.

‘-got the whole spirit world up in arms and ya want us to-’

The snowball hit him just below his ear and he halted, his ears flicking up in irritation. He glared at the wood of the door, refusing to turn and look into the room. Jack snickered, perched on the very edge the sofa. He watched as Bunny’s nose twitched, his tongue running over his teeth as he exerted all his patience not to turn and throttle Jack. Jack could feel the stranger's eyes boring into him, but he no longer cared about him.

‘Frost,’ Bunny said, turning to glower at Jack. ‘Ye’ve got two seconds ‘fore I- _Nightlight_?’

Bunny’s face changed as he caught sight of the stranger – Nightlight – and he barrelled into the room. Jack blinked, stunned as Bunny shot forward and enveloped Nightlight in a bear hug, the snow clinging to his fur forgotten about as he tucked Nightlight’s head under his chin and gripped him tight.

‘Nightlight!’ Tooth squealed, flitting over to hover beside Bunny. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as best as she could with Bunnymund in the way, squeezing him tight and stroking his hair. Her faeries fluttered about her, squeaking and chirping. One broke away from the group and darted over to Jack, squeaking happily and clapping her hands.

‘Hi Baby Tooth,’ he greeted, and she settled on his shoulder, hugging his neck. Jack rolled his staff in his hand, frost spider-webbing down the grain of the wood. He tried to ignore the odd, sharp pang in his chest when Nightlight buried his face into Bunny’s ruff, and the Guardian tightened his grip.

Nightlight wasn't the stranger, it seemed.

‘Ah, is good to see everyone here,’ North said, last to enter the room after Sandy. He closed the door behind him and smiled warmly at Jack, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Jack returned it halfheartedly, glanced back at the scene in front of him with an uncomfortable sinking feeling in his stomach.

Bunny finally released Nightlight from his hug, keeping hold of his shoulders as he looked the boy over.

‘What’s all this about then?’ he asked, looking over his shoulder to North and back again. He shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen you in years, and now yer sending out Moonbeam to call us? What’s this ruckus all about?’

‘Maybe the auroras are broken,’ Jack said, propping his chin on his hand, his elbow digging into his knee. The Guardians turned to stare at him, as if just realising he was there. Nightlight frowned at him. Jack shrugged, meeting his eyes with a deadpan stare that caused Nightlight’s frown to deepen into a scowl.

‘Moonbeam is recognised across world,’ North explained. ‘Calls out to everyone, is closest messenger from Manny we have.’

He paused, sighing as he rubbed his hand down his face. ‘We needed everyone to be here, or at very least, missives from everyone. A great tragedy has befallen us. I needed you all together to be the first to hear it, and I am sorry I cannot ease any of you into this.’

‘North, what’s going on?’ Tooth asked, her cheeriness gone. Jack swallowed, tightening his grip on his staff and glanced around the room; Nightlight looked as if he was trying to keep himself together, ready to fall apart between one moment and the next, his cold distrust towards Jack forgotten. Bunny steeled himself for bad news, fingers flexing as if he were about to reach for his boomerangs and Sandy’s golden sand swirled above his head, waiting for an explanation so he could respond.

‘My friends, Katherine is dead,’ North said. ‘Her library, her books, all our stories are destroyed. There were Fearlings in the remains of her Library.’


	4. The Importance of Mother Goose

‘What!’ Bunny snarled, and Jack jumped at the ferocity in his voice. 

Tooth dropped into the chair below her, shaking her head as she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Nightlight reached out one hand and grasped her shoulder, holding his staff close to his chest like a security blanket. Sandy hovered over them, staring at North as he signed rapidly with his sand, the pictures overlapping in a frantic mesh of questions. Bunny paced, his hands balled into fists.

‘I'll kill 'im! Does he even realise what he’s _done_? What this means for _everyone_?’ he almost bellowed the last part, stopped short and inhaled through his teeth, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

‘It can’t be him. It can't be _true_ ,’ Tooth said. She slumped forward, like she was going to be sick.

‘He’s tied to the stories just as we all are, he would suffer the same as us. It wouldn’t make sense for him to do this - it wouldn't make sense for _anyone_ to do this,' she continued. She looked up at North through her fingers as tears overflowed on her feathery eyelashes, trailing down her cheeks. 'North, there must be a mistake. You must be--'

North shook his head, and Tooth fell silent, clapping her hands over her mouth and hanging her head.

‘Wouldn't make sense? You think after all this time he wouldn’t do this?’ Bunny asked, turning to Tooth. ‘After all the battles, all the defeats dealt t’ him, all his schemes we’ve stopped, ya don’t think he’s finally had enough? Ya think he wouldn’t decide to end it all, an’ take every single one of us with him? _Like he hasn’t_ _done it before_?’

‘Bunny! That's enough!’ North interjected. Bunny jerked to a halt, choking around the words. He blinked, looked at the space that had diminished between him and Tooth and straightened, his chest heaving with every breath. Sandy fanned his hands in front of him, encouraging Bunny to calm. He huffed a breath, and clenched his fists as he retreated to the sofa where Jack perched, watching as he walked around it to lean against the back of it, staring out the open window. He exhaled heavily, scrubbed his hand across his face and over his head, pushing his ears back in frustration.

Sandy shook his head, his brow furrowed in confusion as his sand created a silhouette of Pitch above his head before it faded away, and then repeated it with a silhouette of each of them. He shrugged his shoulders, palms turned upwards. _Why?_

‘He’s got a grudge against _all_ of us.' Bunny looked over his shoulder at North, the words thick in his throat, tears beading in the corner of his eyes. 'Every single one of us, and ya don’t think he’d know the perfect way t’ get us?’

‘I don’t think it is Pitch, Bunny,’ North replied, sighing. His shoulders slumped as if under a heavy weight, his body hunched over like an old man. Bunny scoffed, folding his arms and waited with a hard scowl for North to explain.

‘Pitch has never been one to leave Fearlings to do fighting,’ North said, shaking his head. ‘He would always be there in a fight, to face off against us to prove he could outmatch us. He is too proud to hide away while Fearlings and Nightmare Men battle us.’

‘Sounds to me like his pride has taken a few hard knocks over the years,’ Jack said finally, leaning on his staff and looking between each of the Guardians. ‘What makes you so sure he isn’t trying a different tactic?’

‘If this is new tactic, a diversion, it is poor attempt, leaving Fearlings everywhere to direct back to him,’ North replied, stroking his beard in contemplation. He shook his head again. ‘No, I do not believe it is Pitch. I am almost certain of it.’

‘Almost,’ Bunny repeated. North gave him a look of reproach. Bunny shrugged, meeting his stare. ‘There’s no one else they’d answer to.'

‘Only when he’s at full power, Bunny,’ Tooth said. She wiped her face clear of tears, blinking them from her eyes. She hunched over in her chair, her petite frame even smaller in her grief, and clasped her hands between her knees. ‘They turned on him, remember? He hasn't had enough time to regain the power he needs to control them.’

‘Well, someone has, and if not him, who?’ Bunny asked, raising his hands exasperatedly. ‘Or do you want to tell me there’s every sort of darkness running loose around the world?’

No one answered him, the possibilities too grim to contemplate. After a stretch of silence, Jack cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

‘Um, I’m sorry to ask you guys this,’ he began, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Since you’ve just lost someone close to you, but, what is this library and who is - what?’

He stopped short, catching the look on Nightlight’s face. Beside him, Bunny's ears flicked up, his nose twitching as Jack shifted on his perch, frowning at Nightlight. Nightlight said nothing and turned to North, jabbing his thumb in Jack's direction.

North nodded. ‘Ah, yes, Jack is new Guardian. He -’

‘Hey!’ Jack snapped when Nightlight turned away, too slow to hide the derision on his face. Jack stepped down onto the cushions and hopped off the sofa, advancing on Nightlight. Frost bloomed around his feet, even in the heat of the room, and his staff glowed white at its core as he jabbed a finger towards Nightlight. ‘What the hell was that look for?’

Nightlight's gaze flicked between the glowing staff in Jack’s hand and his glare, his own expression mirroring Jack’s.

‘Jack!’ North said, shocked, and stepped forward. Bunny got there first, jumping over the sofa and putting himself between them. He grabbed the front of Jack’s hoodie in one hand, his forearm resting across Jack's chest and forced him away from Nightlight. Jack resisted, pushing back.

‘None o' that, Jack,’ Bunny said, tightening his grip. Jack glared up at Bunny, defiant, looked over his shoulder at Nightlight, and back to Bunny. Bunny met his glare, narrowed eyes daring him to push. On Jack's shoulder, Baby Tooth squeaked in his ear, tugging at his hair to get his attention and shaking her head. The seconds ticked by in tense, weighted silence, before Jack exhaled a heavy breath through his nose and stepped back until the back of his knees hit the arm of the sofa, his eyes never leaving Bunny. He folded his arms across his chest, his staff trapped between them and his body, a deliberate show of surrender. Behind Bunny, Nightlight turned his attention back to North, but didn't relax.

Bunny remained in front of Jack, arms crossed over his chest.

‘Katherine's an old friend of ours,’ he explained. ‘She’s Mother Goose – was –’ he corrected himself, and Jack deflated, looking down at the floor and tapping his staff against it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He didn't know if he was apologising for her loss or apologising for his outburst, but the sincerity in his voice must've stopped Bunny from pushing it. He rolled his shoulders in a defeated shrug, shaking his head.

‘Not your fault you don’t know her, but her and Kailash – Crikey! North!’ He whipped round to face North, panicked. ‘Where the bloody hell is Kai?’

‘In Infirmary, getting treatment,’ he assured, raising his hands in a calming gesture. There was a relieved sigh around the room. ‘Her injuries are minimal. That appears to be only good news so far.’

‘Does Ombric know?’ Tooth asked.

North grimaced, before he nodded. ‘He is in infirmary, with Kailash. He knows.’

‘Ombric?’ Jack muttered, his gaze flicking to Bunny. He glanced around Bunny at Nightlight, in case he decided to make his disapproval for Jack evident again. 

‘Katherine’s adopted father,’ Bunny murmured, following Jack's line of sight. Nightlight's expression remained blank, keeping his gaze fixed on North. Jack winced at the knowledge of Ombric's relation to Katherine. Bunny rubbed one hand over his eyes, grinding his teeth. ‘No one else knows, do they? That’s why they’re all here, why you’ve called this meeting.’

‘They must be told somehow,’ North replied with a weary sigh. ‘Representatives from across globe are meeting: I would house everyone if I could, but scale is too great in such short time. If it had just been attack against us, I would’ve stormed Pitch’s lair myself for answers, but it is attack on global scale. Whether Pitch is behind it or not, action must be taken to protect ourselves.’

‘Is there a chance to see Ombric, before the meeting?’ Tooth asked.

North paused, deliberating.

‘It might do him well to have company at this time,’ he said finally. ‘I do not know how well he will take to future plans that need to be made.’

The "future plan" must've been prepared before Jack arrived, because he had no idea what was going on. He took it as his cue to leave and swung upright, edging towards the window to take flight till the meeting began when Bunny spoke, jabbing his thumb towards Jack. ‘You lot go on ahead, I’ll find ya after I’ve caught up Frostbite here.’

‘Ah, what?’ Jack asked, stopping short. He eyed the window, wanting to bolt. Hoping to appeal to Bunny, he tried being supportive. ‘No, no. You should, ah, you should see your friend.’

‘I wasn’t asking, Jack,’ Bunny said. Jack dropped his head against the crook of his staff, staring around it at Bunny, before he nodded resignedly.

‘C’mon then, this room's getting stuffy,’ Bunny said, sharing a look with the other Guardians.

They stepped out onto the landing; only Nightlight stayed behind to gather the remainder of the lights that were still spiralling towards the tower while Sandy and Tooth followed North down the curving stairs towards the medical ward. Baby Tooth paused, hovering in the air between Jack and the staircase Tooth had descended. Jack nodded his head up, gently shooing her away, knowing he couldn't keep her from Tooth when she needed comfort. Baby Tooth smiled gratefully and zoomed after them, leaving Jack and Bunny alone on the landing.

Bunny rested his arms on the balustrade, looked down at his bracers in silence. Jack leaned back against it beside him, crossing his ankles and bouncing his heel against the floor. The air between them weighed heavy as the silence stretched on: he didn't want to break it first, when Bunny had been the one who had practically marched him out onto the landing for a one-to-one. 

‘Trying to figure out what to tell you first, in truth, Jack,’ Bunny finally said, picking at one of his claws.

‘Well, first question would be “who’s Katherine?” and you answered that,’ he replied. ‘At least, you kind of did.’

Bunny nodded. ‘That I did. Katherine is Mother Goose, the Story Teller. Specifically, she’s our Story Teller: every spirit who has ever existed, or will ever exist will have their stories written by her. She recorded everything about us and she gave those stories to humans in some way or another. Just about every legend or story you’ve ever heard is because of her.’

Bunny paused, watching Jack absorb the information, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth as the puzzle pieces slotted together in his mind.

‘How?’ he asked finally, stilling his restless leg and burying his hands in his hoodie pocket, his staff trapped close to his body.

‘She sends the stories through time by the shelves in her library. Depending on where the book was shelved was when the earliest mention of the spirit could be traced to in time. Even if the spirits themselves are only a couple o’ decades old, there could be mentions of them as far back as ancient civilisations. It gives you a foundation for belief to be built on, and it helps when gaining believers,’ Bunny explained, as simply as he could. Time was a funny thing – it wasn’t linear or fixed: Bunny had spent many an evening going round and round a conversation about the subject with with his friends with much hilarity. As always in hindsight, he knew they should’ve had more of those evenings, when they’d had the chance.

‘Of course, when she pens more stories and shelves them, the stronger the foundation so belief is easier to come by, otherwise you’re just considered a myth,’ he paused, hesitant, before he added, ‘or a figure of speech.’

Silence followed, and Jack’s frown deepened, his brow furrowed as the gears turned in his head. He switched his staff across his shoulders, refused to meet Bunny’s gaze.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ he asked, staring at the floor.

‘Yes.' He gripped the balustrade and locked his arms straight, resting his weight on them as he dropped his chin down to his chest. Jack wouldn't meet his eye, staring at the floor in silence.

_A figure of speech._

The words burned in Jack's mind as anger bubbled up within him. An old wound that hadn’t truly healed over ripped open in his chest, bleeding anger through him. Anger, because all it would’ve taken to be seen, for three hundred years, were a few words written by someone he had never even met; anger, because the Guardians and the Man in the Moon hadn't thought to tell him; anger, because a poor woman was dead – murdered - and her friends were in mourning and they had chosen _now_ of all times to finally offer him an explanation. That everything he could have had, had been _right there_ , at the tip of a stranger’s fingers.

‘You all knew,’ her repeated, finally looking up at Bunny with hard eyes. ‘I was just an expression, for three hundred years, when no one could see me or hear me or  _anything_ , all because she hadn’t written anything about me. And you all knew it. You  _taunted_  me about it.’

‘I know. I'm sorry; it’s not something I should’ve taken advantage of against you,’ Bunny replied. ‘She’d written your name an’ the fact ye were a winter spirit when you were chosen. But yer story hadn’t happened yet, so she couldn’t write any more than that. She wasn’t psychic.’

‘Three hundred years,’ Jack hissed, tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want Bunny's sincerity, or his apology. ‘Three hundred years and you’re telling me there was _nothing_ she could’ve been written about me? You think I was asleep for those three centuries? You think I wasn't doing something to get noticed all that time? Or was I not a priority till _you_ all needed _my_ help? Did Nightlight get his story written, when he’s not even a Guardian?’

Bunny jerked, his head snapping up to stare at Jack, his eyes narrowed.‘Nightlight’s got nothing t’ do with –’

The temperature dropped, and Bunny stopped dead and sucked in a sharp breath. He wrapped his arms around himself as his breath dispersed in front of his face in cloudy wisps. He fell silent in the face of Jack’s rage, but didn't back down from him, meeting Jack’s icy glare. It was Jack who gritted his teeth and turned away, squeezing his eyes closed as he wrestled for control. He wanted to hit something, to blast everything apart with his frost lightning and fly away to seclusion, knowing it wouldn't help. He looked down as ice unfurled in winding patterns across the wood of the balustrade and around his feet, engulfing the surrounding floor space. Bunny eyed it warily as Jack gripped his staff in his fist, the rough grain of the wood glowing a brilliant white-blue. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he drew his palm down his face and wiped at his eyes as discretely as he could, forcing his powers back, swallowing the pain. It _hurt_ ; it was a hurt that never left, that was never forgotten, and it felt as raw as the day he discovered he couldn’t be seen.

Bunny sighed. ‘Jack, you becoming a Guardian was the story she needed to tell to start you off-’

‘ _She could’ve written_ SOMETHING!’

Ice exploded out around Jack’s feet and splintered the railing under his hand. Bunny stepped back as Jack advanced, the floor and pillars and balustrade turning white and jagged with frost. ‘ _Anything_! I had three hundred years attempting to make people see me! I went _everywhere_! I tried _everything_! And you're telling me that nothing I did got her attention? Nothing I did made me worth the time or the effort or the- the-

‘Jack, stop!’ Bunny commanded, reaching for him, eyeing the ice underfoot. Jack jerked out of reach, gripping the banister till his knuckles were white, his breathing fast and angry and shallow.

‘How does she choose which story to write? Which stories are important enough to build belief on? How does she choose whose story is written first? Who’s left to just... to just _wander_? No memories, no answers, nothing. Not seen, not heard, not believed in. Doesn’t know about other spirits so he wouldn’t be alone, is _still_ alone because the ones he meet are so few and so far between it doesn’t even matter if they know he exists, but the ones who do acknowledge his existence just chase him away during their holiday or throw him out because he’s a bother or– or–’

He inhaled sharply, running out of breath to force the words up his throat and his body rebelled, his throat closing and his lungs seized in his chest, starved of air. His heart skipped, a cold sweat blooming on his skin. His teeth clacked together as he tried to speak, to convey his panic, a painful squeezing taking hold in his chest and twisting. He grasped at his chest, fisting the material of his hoodie as he struggled for control, his breath hitching and his vision spotted black and white. His whole body trembled when his arms were gripped by large hands that squeezed painfully when he tried to wriggle away, tried to draw breath while he choked and coughed around the tightness in his throat.

‘Jack, breathe!’ Bunny commanded, his thick, rough voice piercing through his distress and giving him focus. ‘Just breathe.’

‘ _How?_ ’ It was the only word he could force out around gulps of air as he tried to calm himself, tears spilling down his cheeks.

‘She was just _one_ person, Jack.' He held Jack at arm’s length, hunching down so they were eye level. His bright green eyes were more vivid than usual, shining with unshed tears. ‘She had a whole _world_ of spirits to write about, there’s only so much she can do. We thought she had time, all the time in the world. Not all spirits need belief, not all spirits fade without it.'

Jack sniffed, quieting, wiping his nose with his sleeve. Bunny sighed. 

'Sometimes spirits only need a line or two to survive, until she gets round to them again. We don't know who does and who doesn't, not entirely. But there is one thing every single one of us need, an’ we needed Katherine to get it.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘A foothold.’

They lapsed into silence while Jack attempted to compose himself, wrapping an arm around his middle, like he needed to physically hold himself together. He didn’t understand what Bunny meant, couldn’t ask him to elaborate. He swayed in Bunny's grip, his vision warping as cotton filled his head, the lack of oxygen throwing off his equilibrium until his breathing slowly evened out, hitching intermittently. His body began to calm down and the pain in his chest dulled to an old, recognisable ache that had been there for three centuries. Bunny watched him intently, and Jack eventually stabilised.

He exhaled heavily, wiping his eyes with his sleeve cuff and met Bunny’s gaze. Bunny’s mouth twitched up at the corners in what could’ve been an encouraging smile before it disappeared. Jack looked away, embarrassed, and Bunny dropped his hands away from Jack’s arms and gripped the banister in one hand, awkward and embarrassed, unsteady on the ice.

‘Sorry,’ Jack muttered, reaching out with one hand and chipping at the ice on the banister with a fingernail. Bunny nodded, said nothing.

‘Don’t tell the others,’ Jack said, his voice cracking.

Bunny said nothing, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Jack cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. ‘What happens now?’

Bunny closed his eyes, his ears drooping. ‘We need to find a replacement.’

‘If we don’t?’

‘The stories don’t get rewritten, they don’t remain anchored in human history,’ Bunny explained. ‘They start to disappear, and so do we.’

Silence followed: Jack dropped his head against his staff, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he swallowed down the heavy lump in his throat. ‘So we’ll all be invisible.’

 _Again_.

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that, mate,’ Bunny sighed, rubbing his eyes. Jack cocked his head, squinted up through his bangs.

‘Humans need to be aware of us in the first place,’ Bunny elaborated. ‘Even if they don’t believe in us, everyone - both adults and kids – know us at least by name. Different names, maybe some more wide spread than others, but they know them. It’s why Katherine wrote yours and what ya are without having your story penned down. That’s the foothold we need into their world, bridges the gap between us. Destroying the library has destroyed all those bridges and with ‘em, our influence over the world.’

Jack’s stomach turned on itself. ‘No more snowballs and fun times, then.’

‘No more a lot of things, mate,’ Bunny replied. He pulled a face, as if calculating something in his head. ‘We have some time: few years maybe; we’ve got enough stories ingrained into history that it’ll take a while for them to disappear completely.’

‘ _You_ have, you mean,’ Jack said, bitterness heavy on his tongue. He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter...’

‘Jack,’ Bunny said, looked like he wanted to say more. He scrubbed his hand across his head and over his ears. ‘We need to act fast, because if everyone – _everyone_ – loses that foothold, none of us will be able to come back from this, and neither will the world as we know it.’

The click of the door opening made Jack jump and they turned in unison as Nightlight stepped out, the diamond on his staff dimming as it absorbed the last of the light. Jack straightened, switching his staff between hands. Nightlight blinked as he looked around at the damage to the landing. His eyes fell on Jack, and raised one hand to his face, swiping under one eye. Jack realised he was pointing out the thin line of tears that had escaped down Jack's cheeks. Gritting his teeth, he buried his free hand deep into his hoodie pocket, meeting his stare.

‘All good, Nightlight?’ Bunnymund drawled, glancing between them. Jack wasn’t stupid enough to think they were being subtle, that Bunny didn’t pick up on the animosity crackling through the air, or the way both staffs glowed in the hands of their wielders. Bunny's ears flicked up, twitching.

‘Nightlight?’ he repeated. He dropped his arms to his sides, ready to jump between them. Nightlight broke eye contact first; Jack relaxed against the balustrade, twisting his staff in his hand. Nightlight held up one hand, fingers splayed apart and Bunny nodded, clearly understanding what he meant.

‘Right, best grab the others, then,’ he said and hopped towards the stairs. ‘C’mon, Jack.’

‘I need some air,’ he said, staying against the balustrade. Bunny stared over his shoulder at him, trying to gauge his thoughts. Jack tried not to blink or fidget, even as the need for space gnawed at him, ironic after three hundred years of his own company that he desired it now, but the sudden newness of everything that had been thrown at him pushed at him from all sides. He needed to leave. Bunny finally nodded, and he relaxed.

‘Alright,’ he agreed. ‘Do me a favour then, Frostbite? Stay out in the air till ya hear a bell ring, that’ll signal the start of the meeting.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s a lot o’ spirits down there, I don’t want to be dragging you out of trouble.’

‘I do more than just cause trouble, Bunny,’ he muttered, stung. Bunny’s gaze softened.

‘Too bad I can’t say the same for most of them,’ he said. Jack’s lips thinned and he pressed his forehead against the crook of his staff. He wanted to believe Bunny told the truth, the hope that he thought more of Jack than just his mischief was like needles under his skin. He couldn't tell what Bunny was thinking, all the barriers and walls that had disappeared when he’d seen Nightlight were firmly set back in place around Jack. He wrung his hands around his staff, staring at the grain until his vision became unfocused. Bunny's ears flicked forward, as if trying to catch a faint sound.

‘Can ya stay outside till the bell rings?’ Bunny asked, a confused frown tugging at his mouth. Jack finally nodded after a pause.

‘Where do I go for the meeting?’

Bunny explained what to look for and where to find it, reiterating only to enter at the sound of a bell. Jack nodded, and Bunny clapped him on the shoulder before Jack retreated back into the room Nightlight had vacated. He wasted no time in approaching the still open window and leapt onto the ledge, looking out over the horizon, violet and navy shadows stretching across the snowy plain after the setting sun. His forehead furrowed, squinting his eyes at nothing in particular, wrapped in his own thoughts when a sudden gust of wind almost dragged him out the window, and he scrambled for balance as he snapped out of his melancholy, grabbing the frame. The wind surrounded him, pulling at him incessantly to come back outside and play, unaware of what had occurred within the workshop walls.

‘Woah!’ he gasped as it kept urging him outside. ‘You miss me that much?’

It whistled around him, and he smiled as he leaned further out over a sharp drop of nothing but thin air between him and the ground. He glanced over his shoulder to check Bunny wasn’t going to change his mind, but Jack had a feeling Bunny knew more about his emotional state than he revealed. Plus there was no secret to the antagonism that had bloomed between Nightlight and Jack. It would be best for both of them to stay away from each other. He didn’t know Nightlight’s problem with him, but he evoked a twisting anxiety in Jack, whispers in his mind of being cast aside and replaced coiled among older fears.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and breathed in the cold, crisp Northern air. He released his grip on the window frame, and the wind cooed as he edged further towards the precipice, before gravity took hold and he plummeted out of the window.

The sharp burst of adrenaline blanked his mind, soothing the chaos of his thoughts. The wind drowned out the pounding in his ears as he fast approached the ground. Taking the risk again, he waited till the last possible second before swinging out of the dive, shooting up and over the tall spiralling rooftops of North’s home. He set down on the very top of one long roof, swung his staff over his shoulders like a yoke and walked along the ridge like a tightrope. The moon hung in the sky silently overhead, and Jack glanced up at it before he purposefully turned away.

He was half way across the roof when he paused, staring down at the tiles, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. He spun around to glare up at the satellite, sliding his staff off his shoulders and leaning on it.

‘Three hundred years,’ he said quietly. ‘I _begged_ you for three hundred years for something, _anything_ , that would help me, that would tell me why I’m here. You could’ve told me I was a Guardian at the lake. You could've told me about Mother Goose. I could've been someone for those three hundred years.’

‘Is this just a game to you?’ His hands swept through the air. ‘Here, you’re Jack Frost but I’m going to take away all your memories. Oh, but _by the way_ , you can get them back from the Tooth Fairy, except you won’t know she even exists for another hundred or so years, let alone where her palace is. Here, you’re a Guardian now, you can get people to see you. Oh, but _by the way_ , you could’ve gotten Mother Goose to help you out with that for the last three hundred years, except you won’t know she exists until it’s too late and _everyone_ is in danger.’

‘And Nightlight? What, do you just have a bunch of spirits stockpiled somewhere until they are actually of use to you? Or do you just make prototypes or substitutes until the _real_ Guardian material comes along... Or comes back?’

He didn’t know much about Nightlight, but he wasn’t blind or stupid. He clearly had a history with the Guardians, one that Jack couldn’t possibly compete against. He could tell that Nightlight had been the first spirit North had called on when he had learnt about Mother Goose, had been the first spirit North had thought of when he needed help.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, dropped his head against the crook of his staff and sighed. He hadn’t meant to stay away for so long.

He had thought about the Guardians as often as he thought about his original believers, wondered if they thought about him too. In his mind, he gained enough believers in the months following Easter and returned to the North Pole in time for Christmas the same year. Maybe even help out, make up for the messed up Easter. The other Guardians would be there too, and they would catch up instead of spending years apart like North said they used to do. Hell, maybe they would’ve even invited Mother Goose – Katherine – along, to introduce him to her and she’d start writing more about him. Afterwards, they’d all repeat the cycle: go travelling, or back to their jobs, he’d gain believers even more easily, have time to drop in and see Tooth or Bunny, be back in time for Christmas again: lather, rinse, repeat.

But believers didn’t instantly start popping up – that mystery, now solved – and he had to spend longer in one place or another, coaxing kids to believe once they heard his name. It conflicted with his restless, nomadic nature and most of the time he dozed when he wasn’t playing, tired and morose over the slow gain of believers. Sandy’s dream sand was the only connection he had with any of them when it lit up the night sky in soft golden hues, convincing him he wasn't really alone.

Five years had passed though, and the Guardians had barely acknowledged him when Nightlight was there.

Jack raised his head and glared up at the moon, channelling all his anger towards the one who started it all. He slumped against his staff when he got no answer, exhausted. ‘Yeah, as usual: very enlightening. Thanks.’

He backflipped off the roof and rode the wind towards the low mountains guarding North’s home. The workshop and the yeti village sat in a jumbled cluster close together on the mountainside, and he bypassed them towards the very edge of North’s domain, relaying the instructions Bunny had given him in his head as he approached the glacial mountains. Swinging around the craggy peaks, he spiralled down from the summit when he spotted the meeting place Bunny had described. Admittedly, it wasn't something he could miss, the newest addition to the workshop’s halls a clear beacon to all spirits, telling them “over here”.

The mountain looked like any other in the vast range, bordering the snowy plain everyone had traversed, except for the domed glass roof that had replaced the peak and a large, arching gateway had been cut into the heart of it, the doorway guarded by two stone pillars in the shape of warrior yetis, holding their stone weapons out before them. Light flooded out between the two gargantuan slabs of smooth, polished stone that lay open, allowing any and every one to enter as they pleased. Jack dropped onto the wide ledge above the doors, looking down at the entrance. The drone of overlapping conversations filtered out into the valley as the last of the gatherers that Jack could see hurried into the mountain, unaware of his presence in the darkness of the mountain's shadow. Jack could see no other way than the giant doorway he perched upon that would allow those travelling by flight into the meeting hall.

He buried his hands in his hoodie pocket, his staff leaning against his body considering his options: faced with the prospect of walking into a crowded room of strangers that could see him warred with his curiosity and rebellion towards Bunny’s request, he found himself uncharacteristically shy, hesitant to drop to the ground and wander inside. It wasn’t the same as flying through the crowd, an easy escape in his reach when he could just out fly them if they became hostile and he didn’t know how they would react to him once his snowflakes had worn off.

He battled with himself until the wind jerked at him, pushing at him from the side and almost toppling him off the edge.

‘Wind! What the-?’

The wind whistled in his ear, trying to get his attention. He righted his hoodie, straightening on his perch and cocked his head to the side, squinting as he tried to figure out what the wind had found for him. It pulled at his clothes and mussed his hair, drawing his eyes up to a narrow crevice in the rock face high above his head. He cocked his head, squinted at it curiously before he leapt up on a draft and flew closer to it, dropping onto the side of the mountain and clinging to its uneven face.

He gauged the size and depth of the gap in the mountainside, and from deep within, he heard the faint murmurs of the crowd travel up through it. It was large enough for him to squeeze through, and he sidled in close, looking down into the mountain wall before he slid inside, inching his way along the slim corridor of stone, easing himself around stalactites and sharply jutting protrusions along the way. The wind remained outside, only soft drafts filtering through the gap behind him until he finally crawled out onto a narrow, hidden ledge, high above the crowd, and he discovered the excellent view when he peeked out over the edge.

The sprawling great hall held the same wonder of the workshop: the walls were smoothed and polished till they gleamed in the light, rivers of opalescent colours running through the grey stone, the floor a mosaic of rippling colours. Banners hung around every wall, from daises and pillars, from balconies and stone beams stretching the width of the mountain. Staggered floors lined with decorated pillars surrounded the central floor of the hall, like an amphitheatre, chairs more accurately described as thrones grouped on them in varying numbers. Many spirits had already taken a seat or used the pillars as support, leaning against them or clinging to their sides by tails or claws as they conversed; others – those who could reach - hung around on the stone beams above the crowd, people watching. He leaned out further, looking up at the crystalline facets of the glass roof above his head, the moon full and bright against the dark sky. Yetis moved through the crowd on the floor, keeping the guests supplied with refreshments and extra comforts to keep them warm if they were unused to the cold northern climate.

Jack folded his arms and rested his chin on them, staring at the several hundred spirits gathered before him. Enraptured by them, he failed to notice his hiding spot wasn’t so hidden as the dark spirit crept up behind him.


	5. Monster In The Closet

Jack leaned over the edge, keeping his staff close to him as he stared at the throng of spirits below him, staying hidden from the spirits above him. The spirits kept close together in groups rather than spreading out through the room, the familiarity of a shared country or culture keeping them together in tight knit circles. Despite the familiarity the wolf, the fox and the coyote shared, the rest acted as strangers to one another.

He bit at the skin around his fingernail, his eyes flicking around the hall, jumping from one spirit to the next as he tried to match the face to the stories he had heard over the years. The Guardians had been the only ones he had had proper contact with - yetis throwing him out of the workshop, golden sand flying alongside him during the night, Bunny yelling at him during Easter. Too busy playing guess-who in his head, he didn’t notice his stalker sneaking along the narrow ridge above his head, padding towards him with the slow, steady patience of a predator. Wide, bright eyes studied him, muscles tensed under thick fur, claws dug into cold stone as they darted in close, balanced as they crouched above Jack's head.

Jack’s skin prickled, the hairs on the nape of his neck rising. Instinct made him defensive and he gripped his staff in his hands, pushing himself to his feet. He pivoted on the ball of his foot and held his staff aloft, ready to fend off the stalker, and met the sharp, unwavering gaze of bright yellow eyes framed in shadow inches from his own.

_Nightmare._

He staggered back, reeling before stone gave way to air, his feet slipping from their perch and he tumbled off the edge. He yelped, falling, and swung his staff out, hooking the crook around the thick, twisted rope decorated with the vivid banners below him. It jerked under his weight, and sent him spinning. Banners slapped him in the face and wrapped around him as he crashed through them down the length of rope, catching glimpses of the confused spirits staring at him from their seats up the high walls. The rope jumped again as the creature landed on it, bounding after him and jolting his staff from its hook. It slipped from his grip and he dropped, plummeting to the ground. He was about to splatter across the patterned floor when his vision was dominated by bright, garish orange and thick, solid vines spun into a makeshift netting underneath him, catching him in their woven loops. He bounced, his teeth rattling in his head and the net tipped, rolled him onto the orange monstrosity beneath him.

Disorientated, he blinked, shaking his head to clear it. An insistent nudge at his back forced him upright, the snake-like vines unfurling at his back and around his sides, his staff carried in one over to him. Rolling his shoulders until they clicked, he took his staff from the vines and shooed them away with it. He scratched the back of his head, looking down at the miraculous buffer between the floor and his face, and discovered he sat upon a giant pumpkin.

‘Alright, Pumpkin Head! Good catch, mate,’ someone crowed, and a scarecrow vaulted up next to Jack, crouching down so he was eye level with him. Jack blinked, drawing back as he eyed the scarecrow up and down: not a scarecrow, but a fantastic impression of one.

A mask carved out of a pumpkin covered half his face, and freckles covered the rest, densely packed across the bridge of his nose and cheek. He clothed himself in an abundance of oversized layers of browns and greens under a long hooded coat that looked like it had been dragged everywhere twice over, the original colour long faded into a sun-bleached beige. He looked young – about Jack’s age - with unruly dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes, a healthy tan suggesting long days out soaking up the sun. He tipped an invisible hat to Jack, before twisting towards the crowd that had gathered around the pumpkin, pointing and staring as they muttered between themselves, their eyes focused on Jack.

‘Okay, ladies and gents, show’s over,’ he said, waving his stick to shoo them all away. ‘Nothing to see here, carry on your business and a good day t’ you all.’

Jack’s face burned cold as frost spiralled across his nose and cheeks. The spirits turned away to their own conversations, but Jack could still feel their eyes on him. Scarecrow remained unperturbed as he looked at Jack, swinging his staff – a plain, ordinary length of wood with a red chequered bandanna tied around the top of it – over his shoulder, eerily similar to how Jack perched.

‘Alright, lad? That was a bit o' a fall ye took there,’ he stated cheerfully, a slight accent colouring his voice; Irish, was Jack’s guess.

Jack nodded, the frost spreading across his face and down his neck as he looked away, his eyes drawn up to the black blot with glowing yellow eyes. Fear hooked its claws in him again, tightening his chest. Scarecrow followed his gaze and chuckled. ‘Now there’s your problem.’

‘Nightmare!’ Jack said, wide eyes fixated on the shadow, his nerves frazzled. Scarecrow snorted, shaking his head.

‘Not even close,’ he replied. ‘ _Luck_ just wasn’t on your side.’

Jack looked at him, confused, and squinted up at the creature high above their heads. It stretched its body out, the contours and lines of their body revealing a long, sleek black cat the size of a jaguar watching them with inquisitive golden eyes. They hunched on the rope, muscles tensing before they leapt fearlessly into the air.

The surrounding spirits, their attention still attune to Jack and Scarecrow, stepped out of the way as the cat twisted in mid fall and landed several feet away from them on all fours with a muffled thump. They rose onto two legs, short of six foot in height, and Jack stared as they sauntered over to them. Slick black fur shimmered ink-blue under the light around the hall, seven stripes patterning the whiskered face along fluffy cheeks and down a soft, sloped forehead. A bell jingled on a bright red collar, and charms jumped and swayed on the multitude of bangles and bracelets decorating their arms. Jack’s eyes, however, were drawn to the pouch strapped to the left thigh, from where they withdrew a gold coin and flipped it up in the air towards Jack with a fanged smile.

He snatched it from the air, eyed the cat suspiciously. They met his gaze levelly, something conspiring in their smile, and Jack looked down at the coin nestled in the palm of his hand. It was heavier than he had thought, and facing him with what he assumed was heads. He turned it over to see the design on the other side - a random series of scratches over lapping each other – before laying it flat again.

Scarecrow looked over his shoulder to get a better look at it, and made a noise of surprise. ‘Huh, guess Lady Luck  _is_  on your side. Maybe falling wasn’t such a bad thing, yeah?’

‘I guess?’ Jack replied. Scarecrow hopped down and stood before the cat – Lady Luck – only just reaching her shoulders in height.

‘Lady Luck, always a pleasure,’ he greeted with an exaggerated bow.

‘The pleasure is all mine, Jack-O-kun, especially when I come across such _delightful_ little spirits,’ she purred, her gaze resting on Jack. Her pointed ears were alert, sharp, and seven small metal hoops ran up the curve of one.

Jack flushed under her gaze and looked away, noted her suffix use that placed her origin in Japan, where the _Maneki-neko_ brought luck. He looked down at the coin again, running the pad of his thumb over the scratches on the coin - the kanji for luck - before he tucked it into his pocket.

‘Hey, she seems to like you,’ Scarecrow said. ‘Best get down here and take advantage of it; she doesn’t smile down on everyone y'know.’

He tapped the side of the pumpkin with his staff, and it shifted irately.

‘Hey Pumpkin Head, you’re taking up a bit of floor space here,’ Scarecrow said, leaning one elbow on his staff. ‘Wanna give us some room?’

Jack jumped as the pumpkin quivered underneath him. Scrambling to his feet, he leapt off it as it began to shrink, vines snaking out across the floor underneath it. When it was what could be considered normal sized, it skittered across the floor on the long loops of vine towards Scarecrow, climbed up his legs and around his back to finally come to rest on his shoulder. The vines wound round his chest and arms, anchoring it to him, and it looked up at Jack.

'What the-?’ he gasped, stepping back and instinctively raised his staff higher: the pumpkin blinked at him with two wide, cut out eyes that glowed orange-red from deep inside its belly, as if someone had stuck a candle in it. A jagged, carved smile grinned at him and it gnashed its pointed teeth.

‘This is Pumpkin Head,’ Scarecrow introduced, gesturing to it, as if a clingy demonic pumpkin was completely normal. He smiled at it, shrugged his shoulder. ‘Say hello, Pumpkin Head.’

‘Hchrra,’ it gurgled, waving two long loops of vines in the air in semblance of a greeting. Jack’s eyes widened as he stared at it, his mouth dropped open: he’d only ever seen Bunny’s stone egg sentinels move, and they definitely didn’t speak.

‘The pumpkin talks,’ he whispered, realising that maybe Bunny might have known what he was talking about, when he told Jack to hang back.

‘Yep,’ Scarecrow replied proudly. ‘He’s been with me since day one. I’m Jack O’Lantern, by the way, but everyone calls me Jack-O.’

‘Hi,’ Jack breathed, extending one hand in greeting. Unlike Nightlight, Jack-O didn’t hesitate to take Jack’s hand in a firm grip, shaking it exuberantly. A buzzing excitement thrummed beneath the surface of the masked spirit, an endless reservoir of restless energy. It calmed Jack's initial panic, brought back the fun in discovering the unknown. He smiled, his confidence returning. ‘I’m Jack, Jack Frost.’

Silence greeted him. Jack-O’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropped. His hand fell limp from Jack's, and he took a half step back, uncertain and suspicious.

‘Are you serious?’ he asked, his face splitting into a cautious, disbelieving smile. ‘You’re not messing with me, are you? You’re seriously-’

‘Last three hundred years, don’t see why it would change now,’ Jack joked with a shrug. Jack-O stared at him in wide eyed silence, before he whooped, bouncing as he turned to Lady Luck and pointed at Jack. She raised an amused eyebrow, but said nothing. Jack-O clapped his hands over his mouth, turned and stared at Jack in wide eyed delight. He reminded Jack of Jamie, when he had first seen him in the flurry of snow in his bedroom, and he smiled at the memory.

‘Oh my... you’re Jack Frost!’ Jack-O laughed, dragging his hands through his hair, clasped them at the back of his head. Pumpkin Head made a noise of discontent, clinging tighter to him as surrounding spirits glanced their way at the fuss Jack-O made. ‘I mean, you’re you! You have _no_ idea how long I’ve wanted to meet you... I mean, not in a creepy way or anything, just y'know, I mean-’

He trailed off, gesturing to Jack from head to toe when he couldn’t find the words. Jack smiled, cheeks frosting over and he looked away, scratching his head. He twirled his staff in his fingers for something to do.

‘Uh... thanks. I honestly didn’t know I was that... well known.’

Jack-O’s eyes widened till they were saucers in his face. ‘Not well... Not... What? Mate, you’re a legend! Not like, y’know, how we’re all legends but seriously:  _legend_!’

‘Ah- what?’

Lady Luck laughed, a steady rumble in her chest that sounded like a purr, and she cocked her head to one side, contemplating Jack. ‘You seem new to our world, Jack-kun. Have you not noticed your reputation before?’

‘Uh...’ he said, looking between them. He knew of his reputation with North and his success at top of the naughty list; he definitely knew of his reputation with Bunny, who voiced it often enough; Tooth, well, he just had to smile and that was that. Sandy was the only Guardian who hadn't had a preconceived judgement about Jack when they had first gathered. Lady Luck hummed, a deep purr resonating from her chest, her long tail swishing around her legs.

‘You _are_ new to our world,’ she chuckled, smoothing down the decorative bib under her collar. ‘After three hundred years? You are an interesting young one, Jack-kun. I hope to see more of you.’

‘As long as it’s not from sneaking up behind me,’ he replied, raising an eyebrow. Lady Luck’s eyes glinted, a few degrees past mischief, and when she returned the smile it revealed two rows of sharp, curved white fangs.

‘I won’t make promises, Jack-kun,’ she said. ‘But perhaps you’ll get lucky, and I’ll be the only one sneaking up on you.’

She pivoted elegantly and strolled away, her long tail swishing back and forth lazily. Jack stared after her with narrowed eyes until she disappeared into the crowd.

He turned back to Jack-O, pulled a face. ‘She seems... nice.’

‘Like I said,’ Jack-O said, shrugging. ‘She likes you.’

‘Now,’ he said, slinging one arm around Jack’s shoulders and clapping him on the back. ‘What do you mean you don’t know about your own reputation? You’ve almost knocked me off my mischief-making pedestal more than once.’

‘Almost?’ Jack asked, cocking an eyebrow. Jack-O’s enthusiasm seemed to be infectious, and Jack felt far more at ease around Jack-O than he had been around Lady Luck or Nightlight, despite the grinning demon-pumpkin staring at him from Jack-O’s other shoulder.

‘Well, taking on a Guardian in his own holiday came _this_ close,’ Jack-O said, holding his thumb and forefinger millimetres apart. ‘You gotta tell me all about it – how freaking mad was he? Tell me you got a picture of the look on his face when he realised.’

Jack laughed, shook his head as he dragged his hand through his hair. ‘Little bit difficult with the snowball I threw at him covering half of it.’

Jack-O spluttered out a laugh, slapping his free hand over his mouth and biting down on the knuckle through his tattered gloves, the tips of his fingers poking through the frayed material. ‘Jack, mate, you’re just _fearless_ , you know that? Man, ’68 was one _hell_ of a year.’

‘I’ll never live it down, will I?’ Jack mused, letting his head fall back with a sigh, eyes closed and a small smile on his lips.

‘There are worse things to be remembered for.’

Jack frowned, remembering why everyone was gathered here, turned to his new friend. ‘Jack-O-’

A heavy hand fell on Jack’s shoulder, the familiar combination of claws and fur and the soft pads that could only belong to one person. He knew the same had happened to Jack-O by the way he tensed and Pumpkin Head gurgled irately, vines curling up from underneath him and looping round the offending hand, trying to dislodge it.

‘Guess Luck wasn’t the only one sneakin’ up on you,’ Jack-O whispered out the corner of his mouth. Jack swallowed, grimacing as he glanced over his shoulder. Bunny glared down at him, unimpressed.

‘Uh... hi, Bunny,’ Jack greeted with an innocent smile. Jack-O’s eyes shifted beside him, deer-in-headlights tense.

‘Frostbite, what part of “stay outside” escaped yer grasp of understanding?’ Bunny drawled.

‘Uh... Whoops?’

Bunny rolled his eyes. He dropped his hand away from Jack-O and nudged Jack to move. ‘I figured. C’mon, time to make this meeting official.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ he said, and turned to Jack-O. Jack-O smiled, recovering, and gave Jack a jaunty salute.

‘We should collaborate some time,’ he said with a grin. ‘Catch me up after this “official” snore fest is over with –’

‘Oi!’ Bunny snapped.

‘I mean, uh, official very serious top priority business meeting,’ Jack-O corrected, standing at attention and waving his hand over his face, his smile disappearing into an exaggerated look of solemnity. Bunny glared, snarling in annoyance, but Jack-O broke out into a smile again, his attention focused on Jack. ‘Really though, I’ve got some spirits who’d love to meet you.’

‘Sure,’ Jack agreed with enthusiasm. Pumpkin Head waved goodbye from Jack-O’s shoulder, gnashing his carved teeth. Jack winced, managing a half wave at him before Bunny pulled him away and into the crowd.

‘Stick close to me,’ Bunny muttered, and Jack rolled his eyes. Bunny frowned, catching his look. ‘Just do it.’

‘You know, they aren’t that bad,’ Jack sighed, even as he gravitated closer to Bunny.

‘Oh? An’ ya got that just from meetin’ Jack O’Lantern, that trick-or-treating gumby?’

‘He’s nice,' Jack defended. Bunny snorted, and Jack frowned.

'I met Lady Luck, too,’ he muttered. Bunny paused, raising an eyebrow. Jack shrugged.

‘She seems... nice,' he repeated. 'Other than the fact she likes sneaking up on people.’

Bunny turned round, concerned. ‘She didn’t do anything t’ ya, did she?’

Jack switched his staff to his other hand, and dug into his pocket to retrieve the coin.

‘She gave me this,’ he said, holding it up for Bunny to see. Bunny hummed, but said nothing, spinning on his foot and beckoning him to follow. Jack glanced at the spirits around him and hurried after him, sliding the coin back into his pocket as they wove their way through the crowd. Now that he wasn’t staring down at them from a comfortably high perch, he began to feel overwhelmed by the number of bodies around him. They pushed and pressed against him, got between him and Bunny as he tried to shimmy past them, an instinctual fear flaring in his gut that he was about to be in pain, walked through by someone. It didn’t happen, and the restless anticipation grew till Jack couldn't breathe for waiting for it, his vision swimming as the crowd swarmed him, unable to focus on anyone, trapped amidst the bodies, no draft of air to jump on and ride over the crowd.

‘Uh, Bunny!’ he said helplessly, and Bunny glanced over his shoulder from a few short steps ahead. There must have something in Jack’s expression, because he reached back and grabbed his wrist, pulling him along behind him to a break in the crowd, and Jack could breathe again. Bunny paused, glanced at him.

‘Ya alright, mate?’ he asked. Jack nodded, swallowing, and jumped in fright when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, Bunny looking over his shoulder at the three men in front of them.

Two were Native American, with warm brown skin and dark hair while the other was Japanese, each as equally handsome as the other. All three were dressed in modern clothing that looked odd with the tails curling around their bodies: the grey of the wolf, coyote brown, and the Japanese spirit had nine fiery fox tails flaring out from the base of his spine.

‘Good race, frost spirit,’ the coyote grinned, his sharp face haloed in a shaggy mane of dark brown hair, his tail flicking back and forth rhythmically behind him.

‘Uh, thanks,’ Jack said, before Bunny pushed Jack behind him in a single fluid motion, exchanging a few words with the three spirits in low voices. Jack heard “Guardian” and “careful” and they nodded. Jack frowned, brows knitted together in annoyance before Bunny directed him through the crowd, pushing him forward with a hand between his shoulder blades.

‘You don’t need to treat me like I'm made of glass,’ he muttered. He could feel the eye roll Bunny gave him behind his back.

‘Mica, the coyote, and the Kitsune are tricksters,’ Bunny explained. ‘Esa, the wolf, is the only one who’s got any sorta handle on them.’

‘Sounds like we’d get along just great,’ Jack said.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Bunny drawled, shook his head. ‘Except Kit isn't just a trickster, he’s the original: not someone you want to tango with for a lark. He was a nightmare back in the day, decided Mica was a good partner in crime a few hundred years back. They raised hell with the Native American spirits before Esa finally stepped in and took 'em under his wing; they've calmed down a bit, since then, with Esa lookin' after 'em.'

Bunny fixed Jack with a stern look. 'Still not someone you want to tango with for fun.'

Jack rolled his eyes.

‘Do you know everyone here?’ he asked. He wondered if it was another responsibility that came with being a Guardian, something else they had missed out on telling him. Maybe he should’ve known about it from the beginning, like the last three centuries had been meant for preparation for his Guardianship, learning about the world around him before he could be noticed by it. He felt increasingly out of his depth as he caught more eyes following him across the floor.

‘When yer around long enough ye start to notice the spirits that stay in the coming and going,’ Bunny said, shrugging. He fell into step beside him, pointing out spirits as they passed. ‘The Muses, Katherine really liked them, the Stork, she’s an old mate o’ mine... Pandora, s’cuse us...'

‘She’s the woman with the box, right?’ Jack asked, silently congratulating himself on the knowledge he did possess, until the honey haired woman pivoted and glared at him.

‘Really? _Really_?’ She snapped, jabbing a finger at him. ‘That was once! One time! And that's all people remember of me?’

‘Pandora,’ Bunny said, hands raised in truce. She shook her head, curls bouncing around her face.

‘No. No, because you know what? Have any of you thought that maybe curiosity is a good thing? Do you think humans would be where they are today if they hadn’t been inquisitive? Does anyone think of me when they see that? Nooo, I'm just the woman with the box!’ she snapped, jabbing her finger at Jack. He leaned back, avoiding her pointed fingernails.

‘I’m sorry? I’m really sorry. I, uh, I... Bunny!’

‘C’mon!’ Bunny grabbed him by the hood, yanking him through the crowd as spirits swarmed around Pandora to comfort her as she continued ranting. He glanced over his shoulder, keeping Jack in front of him till they were a safe enough distance away and sighed with relief.

‘She’s uh, a bit sensitive about the box thing.’

Jack grimaced. ‘I noticed...’

‘And you wonder why I asked ye to _stay outside_ ,’ Bunny drawled. Jack grinned impishly.

‘What? You didn’t think that was _fun_?’

Bunny glared at him out the corner of his eye. ‘No.’

Jack chuckled. ‘C’mon, Bunny, I was fine up till- woah!’

‘Mind where ya step!’ Bunny scolded, dragging Jack around a wide ring of toadstools that had sprouted from the stone around a cluster of chairs. Jack looked around at the gathering inside and felt his mouth go dry. Memories of stories his elders would tell the children of the village crashed to the front of his mind, stories about strange creatures living in the forest that fed on human flesh and stole babies from their cribs while their parents slumbered in the other room. He recalled the warnings of venturing too far from the village, how scared his sister and her friends had been the first time he took them to the lakeside to play because it was ringed by trees.

One of them - a tall, impossibly thin creature with papery skin who stood at the edge of the ring - turned and met Jacks gaze with electric blue orbs with no pupils, like marbles. It smiled beguiling, the air shimmering around it shifting in a haze. Jack backed away, stumbling in panic and averted his eyes, avoiding its glamour and drew close to Bunny, wringing his hands around his staff until his knuckles went white. Bunny glanced down at him, his hand still fisted around Jack's hood. He quirked his lips into a lopsided smirk and cocked an eyebrow.

‘Tell me again how well you were doing on yer own?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Jack said, nudging Bunny in the side. Bunny chuckled, and Jack smiled, appreciating the humour instead of a lecture. Jack looked around, focused more on the hall itself than its inhabitants, letting Bunny lead the way.

‘I've never seen this place around the workshop before,’ he said. ‘You’d think I’d notice the door.’

‘Wasn't here before,’ Bunny replied with an exasperated sigh. ‘North spent most of the night creating it with his magic. Had all the yetis helpin', the fruitloop. Set him back with Christmas preparations.'

‘But... Christmas is...’ Christmas meant everything to North: Jack couldn’t believe even the end of the world would distract North from his holiday.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Bunny nodded. ‘He's a right idiot. Worn himself out, that's why he's so exhausted. Now he's gonna stand up and tell everyone why they're here. And deal with the fallout.’

‘We'll be there with him though, unless I should...’ Jack gestured off to the side at all the seats staggered up on raised floors. Bunny shook his head.

‘Nah, mate, Guardians stick wi’ each other, doesn’t matter where we originate. You’ll be – oh, bloody hell!’

Jack followed his line of sight to where the remaining Guardians stood, crowded by spirits pressing them with questions from all sides. They looked haggard and worn down and Bunny sighed, irritated, grinding his teeth as he stormed through the last of the crowd towards them, Jack in tow close behind him.

'North!' he called out, drawing attention away from North to him.

‘Ah, Bunny! Jack!' North greeted with a tight smile, the jolliness that usually came naturally into his voice now forced. He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace them, subtly pushing the spirits away from him, giving the group some space. 'Now meeting can begin.'

'Alright then, best take yer seats, then,' Bunny said to the group of surrounding spirits, jerking his head over his shoulder. They took the hint and wandered away, disappointed.

'Ya alright, North?' Bunny murmured, keeping his voice low to avoid prying ears.

'Da,' he sighed, rubbing his eyes. 'This will be harder than I anticipated.’

‘Best just get it over with quick and-’

The doors slammed open with a crash louder than thunder, a gale force blast of wind throwing itself into the hall and howling up to the peaked roof. It dragged at banners and hangings, threatened to rip them from their ropes. It snuffed out the torches, shook the chairs and battered the walls. It kicked up a blizzard at the entrance to the hall, throwing snow and frost and ice into the belly of the mountain. Spirits ducked their heads, shielded themselves from the force of the winds, running further into the hall to protect themselves.

Jack raised one arm in front of his face, the snow and ice biting into his skin, the wind shrieking in his ears. He squinted against the flurry up at the dark clouds that coalesced in the sky, rolling in at an unnatural speed towards the hall. They spiralled down in a wide column, homing in on the hall as snow piled in the entrance.

Jack gripped his staff, dashed to stand before the entrance of the mountain hall and drove the butt of his staff into the ground, pushing the snow back up into the air with one mighty gust of wind and _out_ of the hall. He guided the wind to his bidding, coaxing it to leave even as it swirled around him in a shrinking cyclone, catching his hoodie and hair, stray flecks striking his face and neck, needle sharp and burning cold, blinding him. This was clearly not his snow; it didn’t bend to his will, fighting him, pushing him back. 

He heard the Guardians call out to him, but he focused all his will against the disobedient blizzard, patient and firm with it. It yielded, slowly, and he finally guided the snow flurry out of the hall –

\-- and bumped into a tall, slender woman standing at the entrance, flanked by two others dressed contrastingly in black and white robes. He stared at the woman, her long, pale face framed by waves of thick black hair, her narrowed gold-green eyes boring into his as she stepped forward, forcing him to retreat. Her heeled boots tapped a steady click-click-click on the marble, echoing in the eerie, almost reverent, silence. The hem of her billowing cloak fanned out across the floor behind her in shimmering green waves, her two companions flanking either side of her as they entered the hall; the one dressed all in white an old man, the end of his long wispy beard brushing the floor as he walked. The other seemed to be made of nothing but shadow, hazy around the edges like an old, blurred photograph. An eerie chill rolled off the formless creature, unnerving Jack.

He swallowed, gripping his staff in his hands till his knuckles went white, staring up at the woman, unblinking.

‘Um,’ he stuttered out around the lump in his throat. Her eyes narrowed with startling sharpness and he ducked his head, turning his gaze away just as a blur of feathers flitted around him, and a small hand rested between his shoulder blades. He looked up and saw Tooth hovering beside him, Baby Tooth zipping around her head with the other faeries, chattering among themselves.

‘Pardon us, Mother Nature,’ she addressed the woman politely, and Jack’s gaze shot back up to the woman’s face, her attention now drawn to Tooth. Tooth inclined her head in respect, pressing her hand against Jack's back more firmly. ‘Jack was keeping the snow out of the hall away from the guests, to ensure everyone would be comfortable for the meeting to begin. North will be the one proceeding.’

She gestured over her shoulder to North as he approached; at the same time she manoeuvred Jack back to the others, putting her body between him and Mother Nature. Jack glanced over her shoulder to see North bow respectfully, and Mother Nature inclined her head to him in return, her eyes darting between Nightlight and the five Guardians, lingering on Jack before returning her gaze to North, speaking with him quietly.

‘Did I mess up somehow?’ he whispered to Tooth. She shook her head, her smile reassuring but it failed to reach her eyes.

‘Of course not,’ she replied, rubbing his back. He wasn’t convinced, but said nothing as Benny – the beige yeti – picked up a large mallet and swung it at a large bell housed in an alcove near the door, the heavy ring echoing through the hall. The crowd shifted, weaving around each other to settle in their seats, those who could fly taking the higher podiums. Mother Nature and her companions strode to the opposite side of the hall and ascended the steps to the lone dais that sat higher than the others, awaiting the news. The floor beneath Jack's feet had taken on a life of its own, a large segment breaking away and rising to hover over the crowd, contraptions whirring and clicking as four seats – far simpler than those given to their guests – unfolded from the dais behind them.

North stepped forward to address the hushed crowd, and Jack took that as the signal to hop onto one of the chairs, comfortable perching on the armrest rather than sitting, and Tooth lowered herself into the seat he had eschewed. Sandy patted down the cushions on the next one along as he got comfortable, giving Jack a small smile and thumbs up when he met his gaze. Bunny remained standing next to the seat he claimed, leaning against it with his arms folded, staring out at the crowd with a distant look on his face. Jack’s gaze fell beyond Bunny finally to Nightlight, who had occupied the furthest chair away from him. His eyes were still red around the edges, his mouth a hard line, like he was fighting the urge to cry.

Jack frowned and felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt in his chest that he didn’t want, folding his arms over his chest.

‘Jack?’ Tooth whispered, tapping the back of his hand with her fingertips. He startled, and flicked his gaze down to Tooth. ‘Are you alright?’

Before he could say anything, she looked around him at Nightlight. His cheeks flushed with frost, even as he tried to rationalise that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Tooth looked at him, a knowing look on her face.

‘He struggles when meeting newcomers. Katherine was the one who always helped him. He’s heartbroken without her,’ she explained. ‘Please try to be patient with him.’

Jack frowned, clipping the end of his staff on the floor as he stared down at it, saying nothing. Tooth smiled.

‘They weren’t just friends,’ she added. ‘Nightlight and Katherine were more than that.’

The unwanted guilt expanded in his chest. He scowled; he didn't want Tooth to defend Nightlight or explain his behaviour. Jack was the Guardian, not Nightlight. They should have defended his Guardianship to Nightlight, rather than letting him dismiss Jack the way he had, just because he hadn’t been told what was going on about anyone or anything.

‘Jack,’ Tooth murmured, as if she could tell what he was thinking. She reached out with one hand to clasp Jack’s, but he pulled away, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. She retreated, hurt. She looked ready to say something when the hall burst into a great cacophony around them, crashing on their ears in a tidal wave of angry yells and panicked cries from the spirits. They all shouted over one another, trying to be heard, as North tried to call for silence, his words lost among the shouting. Only Mother Nature sat calmly, speaking in hushed voices with her two companions. She turned specifically to the shadowed figure to her right, demanding an answer. The figure simply nodded, and Mother Nature closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of resigned acceptance. She turned back to face the crowd, and rose from her seat, stepping forward.

The crowd slowly caught sight of her movement, the hall falling silent as she stopped at the edge of her dais, all eyes upon her.

'Mother Goose is dead, her library destroyed,’ she stated, reinforcing North’s report. ‘Our attention must now turn to another taking up the mantle and rewriting the stories.'

'A weighty task, one none of us can take upon ourselves as well as our own responsibilities,' the archer replied, his wings ruffling behind him. 'How do you propose another is chosen?'

'That task must fall to the Man in the Moon, Cupid. I do not govern the protection of human belief.'

'And what of the one responsible for this?' the Unseelie King demanded, a giant half-goat-half-man with a twisted crown nestled in the thick mane of dark hair between his large, spiralled horns.

'Yes, who caused this? She could not have died of natural causes,' the Seelie King agreed, crowned in light that illuminated his pale blue skin in an icy glow.

Eyes turned to North, who hesitated, his gaze roaming the crowded hall at the expectant faces looking back at him. Mother Nature stared at him unblinking, awaiting his answer. Bunny shifted behind him, preparing to jump in should North need him.

'Nicholas St. North?' Mother Nature queried. 'If you know of who is responsible for this, they must be brought to some form of justice.'

'Justice will be served by the Guardians and myself,' he announced, a murmur of dissent rising from the crowd. Mother Nature narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. 'Given that the presence of Fearlings in the library is cause for suspicion to fall to Pitch, but-'

The uproar from the crowd drowned North out, shouting over one another to have their anger heard. The Native American spirits conversed between themselves, disagreement rife among them while the King and Queens of the two Fey Courts argued vehemently from opposite sides of the hall. The Ground-hog sat huddled on his chair, looking frightened while Jack caught sight of Jack-O, sitting alone except for Pumpkin Head by his feet. He was lost in his own thoughts; his chin rested in his hand as he tapped his staff against the arm of his chair. Lady Luck and the Kitsune occupied a higher set of chairs, surrounded by a plethora of Asian spirits jumping between podiums to speak with one another, and Lady Luck leapt over to crouch on the arm of Kit’s chair, murmuring in his ear, and he nodded.

‘Kill him!’ a demand rang out over all other shouts, and heads turned to the Unseelie King once more, his entourage cheering and yelling agreement. Bunny sighed, rolled his eyes as he pushed away from his chair and stood beside North.

‘This meeting wasn’t called to start a witch hunt, Pan,’ he snapped. ‘It was called to inform ya all of the current events and to find a new Mother Goose. There’s enough time before we start needing to worry about losing our grip on the world.’

‘Even so,’ Cupid replied from one of the higher podiums, leaning his forearms across his knees. ‘This is a crime against every single one of us; it must be addressed, not just by the Guardians.’

‘We’ll take care of Pitch,’ Bunny repeated. ‘Human belief is our domain, whether you need it or not, and anyone who threatens that is ours to claim the right to battle and judge.’

‘Yet your judgement is lacking, for if the Nightmare King had truly been dealt with, this would not have happened,’ Pan retorted, his Court members chattering behind him, near riotous. ‘The only suitable punishment for him now is death.’

‘Don’t be a fool! And call your Court back into order!’ Mother Nature snapped, and the hall went near silent. Pan looked thoroughly chastised by her, and his Fae shrank back from her scorn. His queen, Mab, remained unperturbed - almost bored - by the outburst. ‘Destroy him and you won’t be able to replace him as we can with Mother Goose. Take the balance away from the world, and you _destroy_  it, even if you do it in favour of what you consider just.’

Murmurings ran throughout the hall, disagreements risings between everyone: torn between the desire for revenge and the need to have their stories rewritten, they continued to argue among themselves, and Jack felt his attention slipping. The others joined North at the front of their dais, discussing what was to be done about Pitch. Opposite them, Mother Nature glared at nothing in particular in silence, her sharp features hardened into a deep scowl as she returned to her seat, her elbows resting on the arms of it as she brought her clasped hands to her lips, deep in thought.

Jack sighed, rolled his head back and rubbed at his neck, tired from the constant bickering. He was about to step down from his chair and join the others when something caught his eye.

He thought he had blinked, the flutter of his eyelashes mistaken for something else, but worry swelled in his gut. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt afraid. Baby Tooth noticed the tension in his shoulders, squeaked questioningly at him as she buzzed around his head. The beating of her wings was a constant drone in his ears, louder than the arguments rising in volume around him. On alert, he slowly raised his staff into both hands without thinking about it; his eyes darted around the hall, trying to pinpoint an enemy that he wasn’t even sure was there.

Through the domed roof of the mountain, the moon watched the meeting unfold below. Jack squinted up at it, eyebrows drawn together in confusion before his gaze dropped back down to the halls inhabitants.

‘Guys?’ he murmured. No one paid attention to him. Baby Tooth squeaked in his ear, pulling on a lock of hair and pointed at the Guardians.

‘I know, I know,’ Jack said, waving her away from his hair. ‘It’s okay, I’ll-’

That’s when he saw it, hovering behind Lady Luck and Kitsune. At first glance it could be mistaken for a shadow, but it moved against the subtle shifts in the torch light, two bright gold eyes staring up at him with a manic grin.

His throat closed up, his mouth drying as he watched it move, dropping lower along the wall behind the seats, unnoticed by the other spirits. It seemed huge, its edges blending seamlessly into the ordinary shadows. Even its eyes were near indistinguishable, easily mistaken for dots of light filtering through the hall, and if it made any noise, it couldn’t be heard over the spirits.

Jack stood rooted to the spot, fear rising in him with every passing second.

It continued to watch him, unblinking. He swallowed, gripped his staff till his knuckles turned white. Frost spiralled out from under his feet, and the wood in his hands glowed in warning to the intruder. The noise around him faded out, the hall blurring into a sea of diluted colours and distorted shapes that slowed to an unnatural stillness in his peripheral vision, his gaze solely fixated on the living darkness. His blood roared in his ears, his breath escaping his lips in one long, smooth exhale. His heart hammered in his chest and he leaned forward, prepared to leap.

Then the fear whispered in his head, telling him he would fail, that he would experience excruciating pain. He would have to face it all alone and no one would help him, they’d all die and he would be the one to blame, he wouldn’t be able to help.

He was useless.

He was weak.

He swallowed, hesitating, and the Fearling surged forward into sight.

Screams broke out through the hall, spirits leaping to their feet or taking wing to get away from the creature as it swelled and twisted, coalescing in a mass of writhing darkness, a form taking shape as it rose up, towering over the hall’s inhabitants: a colossus with three fanged maws and a cluster of horns circling its head like a crown that stretched up to the roof, cracking the glass. Its claws curved in on themselves, and a thick tail curled around its cloven hooves. Black skin bubbled in pustules that burst, weeping black sludge, caging the mass of shadows inside its skeletal form.

It roared, the whole mountain trembling with the force of it. Whatever fears that had rooted Jack to the spot disappeared: he barrelled past the Guardians, ignoring their shouts and leapt over the wooden banister, drawing his staff back. The creature turned it's attention towards him, and with a bellow, it fell on him with all its strength just as he swung the shepherds crook around, frost lightening splitting out of the glowing wood with a thunderous crack before he was engulfed in darkness.

He felt like he was dying all over again, drowning. His vision swam in front of him, and he choked on the shadows wrapping around his face and neck, creeping down his body and binding his limbs. A pressure built in his head, demanding a respite from the attack, unrelenting and paining him to the point of tears. His chest felt ripped open, a black hole opening up and pulling him into it piece by piece, destroying him from the core outwards and leaving nothing left. 

He kept hold on his staff in desperation: his life line, channelling all his ice and frost against the beast only to feel it bounce back to him, electrifying his nerves with a subzero blast. He gasped, the frozen darkness invading his lips and choking him, his skin freezing solid and his joints stiffening, his fingers curling into rigid claws around his staff.  He couldn’t defeat it, he knew, not like this: it was too big, too monstrous, his attacks just sprung back at him. But maybe he could slow it down, freeze it in place.

He stopped channelling his cold into a narrow blast, instead let it expand out around him as he dropped the temperature to a dangerously low level. He felt the darkness pull back, disliking the sudden change and it spurred him on to push harder, feeling them retreat. The grip on his limbs loosened and the pressure relented in his head as air came more willingly into his lungs. The pull from the growing emptiness in him eased, allowing him to focus, sending waves of his ice as far and as fast as he could until its grip relaxed, and he felt the black tendrils retract, releasing him. Frost bloomed in front of his eyes and he dropped, slamming onto the floor beneath it. He gasped for breath, blinking his eyes against the bright light as the creature tipped forward over him. A blinding flash of light erupted around it, and he stared wide eyed as it started to crumble above him. He threw his arms over his head defensively when loops of warm, golden sand snapped around him and with a sharp pull, yanked him out of the way straight into Sandy's arms as the creature collapsed on itself.

The whole hall shuddered as the creature landed, the tremors sending many onto the floor themselves, unable to stay standing.

Silence followed, everyone staring at the monster sprawled across the mosaic, thick ichor bubbling out from beneath its burst skin, an acrid smell permeating the air as liquid darkness seeped across the floor and through the cracks in the stone. Frost coated large expanses of its body, icicles clinging to the frozen skin: in other places, the creature was disintegrating, touched by golden sand that ate away at the empty husk. A cyclone of golden sand swirled around the creature, creating a barrier between it and the spirits, who were helping each other stand, the soft murmur of concern filling the hall once again.

‘Jack!’ Tooth called, rushing over to his side, dropping to hers knees by his side and cupping his face in her hands while he gasped for breath, his whole body shuddering as he struggled to inhale. He reached back and squeezed Sandy's hand tight, grateful for his warm, comforting presence behind him, easing the fear in him till it disappeared completely. The emptiness remained.

‘You alright, mate?’ Bunny asked, crouching down beside him and resting a hand on his shoulder. North stood behind them, a barrier between him and the other spirits hovering around to catch a glimpse of Jack.

‘I’m okay,’ he lied, gulping in air between the words. The lingering hollowness made him want to cry, his energy sapped by it. He didn’t understand why the attack hadn’t worked: he had been engulfed by the darkness once before – Pitch had sent a tidal wave of it crashing down on him, and he had managed to turn it all into glittering black snowflakes with his frost lightening. He didn’t know how it would have gone so differently now to the point where it felt like he was _dying_.

‘You should have died,’ a quiet voice repeated his thoughts behind him, a voice he didn’t recognise. Half turning, he saw Nightlight leaning on his staff, a spitting image of Jack. His eyes bore into him: he looked puzzled, genuinely expecting Jack to be lying dead in Sandy’s arms.

Jack laughed, the sound like cracking ice and crunching glass, grating to his own ears. He let his head fall back against Sandy’s shoulder in exhaustion as he continued to laugh, unable to stop as the hysteria rose. Nightlight’s eyes narrowed at him, confused.

‘I do not see what is funny,’ he said. Jack shook his head, sitting upright and pressing his hand against his forehead.

‘Can’t do that twice,’ he said, giggling. He looked at the dead shadow in front of him, his insides twisting themselves in knots: pockets of emptiness created by the darkness were disappearing, like his body was patching itself back together. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’

‘Jack,’ Tooth murmured, running her fingers through his hair.

‘That is still not funny,’ Nightlight pressed, a faint pink spreading across his cheeks. ‘The workshop and its grounds are considered neutral territory. North’s magic allows neither good nor evil to use their powers against the other here. It just backfires and kills them.’

‘Great,’ Jack drawled, tired. ‘I’ll remember that the next time: saves me from having a black hole open in my chest twice in one day. I could’ve _really_ done without that.’

Silence crashed down on him, and the eyes of the whole hall turn their gaze his way.

‘What did ya just say?’ Bunny asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘I... I felt like a black hole opened up in my chest,’ he repeated, looking between Bunny and the others, the same look of horror on their faces. ‘It happened before, when a girl walked through me.’

The silence blanketed the hall.

‘Impossible.'

‘How can he control the Fearlings?,’ someone whispered from the crowd.

‘How can he be _here_?’ another murmured back.

He looked round in confusion. They were scared: he could see it in all their faces; the hard set of Mother Nature’s jaw, Bunny’s far off gaze like he was reliving painful memories, the looks exchanged between the rulers of the two Fae Courts. The quiet unsettled him, after all the shouting.

‘Guys,’ he asked, turned to the Guardians for aid. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Find the bogeyman,’ Mother Nature commanded, her voice ringing around the whole hall. ‘Get him back here  _alive_  and beware the shadows. I feel there might be more lurking there than him, now.’

‘Nicholas St. North,’ she added, addressing him directly. ‘Tsar Lunar must be consulted about Mother Goose, and whoever's chosen must take the oath and begin writing the stories once more immediately. I will accompany you to the lunar observatory for the meeting: send out your Guardians as you see suitable.’

North nodded in agreement and everyone dispersed, the silence breaking into a sea of murmurs as they brushed past them, exited the hall on foot and on wing, many glancing at Jack as they passed. Sandy and Tooth helped him back up, supporting his weight till he settled on his feet, only for him to stumble forward when a hand clapped his back, and he turned to see Jack-O smile at him, nodding to the opposite end of the hall.

‘Bit overkill, yeah?’ he chuckled, indicating the solid mass of jagged ice that now occupied the back wall and a good portion of the two either side of it. Half the seats and their platforms had been frozen solid, fragments of the mountain shattered and iced over; frost patterns crept over the floor, glittering silver in the light of the moon. Jack straightened, flanked by Tooth and Sandy, his surprise outweighing his relief that no one had been caught in the blast. Jack-O shrugged, failed to notice Jack’s amazement and the other Guardians disapproval at his careless roughness with Jack.

‘Gets the job done, I suppose,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Against a Hivemind, too: you really are fearless, ain’t ya?’

‘Yeah...’ Jack muttered, snapped out of his own frazzled thoughts and turned to stare at Jack-O. ‘Sorry, I mean, you said to catch up, but, everyone has to...’

‘Don’t worry, official world-saving business awaits,’ Jack-O replied, waving it away. ‘Catch you up when it’s all blown over, we got ourselves some mischief to make.’

He gave Jack the same jaunty salute as he had earlier as he walked away, Pumpkin Head skittering after him at his heels. Jack exhaled heavily, blowing his fringe out of his eyes before turning back to the others to await North’s instruction for finding Pitch; he never thought he’d see the day they’d  _want_  to see him again.

* * *

Jamie jumped in surprise when Sophie latched onto him, her skinny arms wrapped around his waist in a hug. Water splashed up onto him, soaking his t-shirt with dirty dishwater.

‘Sophie!’

‘Oops, sorry Jamie,’ she said, unfazed. She was still dressed in her dance practice clothes, having finished afternoon lesson for the day. She carpooled with one of her classmates, getting dropped off at home since their mother’s working hours didn’t always suit her after school classes.

She was too busy bouncing around to be fussed about Jamie’s wet t-shirt, still clinging to it as she looked up at him with a smile. ‘I learnt a new dance today. I’m one of the best in class.’

‘Yeah? That’s great, Soph,’ he said, tried to wriggle out of her grip. ‘Sophie...’

‘Sophie, let go of your brother,’ their mother said from in front of the cooker, busy preparing dinner. ‘Both of you go change, and don’t forget to bring your laundry down.’

‘Sure mom,’ Jamie agreed, drying his hands on his t-shirt, wincing when he aggravated the scrape. He had lied to his mother about the ripped jeans and scratched skin, saying he’d slipped on ice. She had expected him to say something about Jack, her expression becoming less sympathetic as she waited for Jamie to bring Jack into conversation, but he’d kept quiet. After all, teenagers weren’t supposed to believe in faerie tales.

Sophie had already sped off down the hall and up the stairs ahead of him, changed into an oversized t-shirt decorated with bunny rabbits over her leggings before he’d even reached his room. She charged back downstairs, wanting to tell their mother about her new dance, forgetting to take her laundry with her.

Jamie rolled his eyes, tugging his t-shirt off and dropping it in the laundry pile next to his door. Jack hadn’t returned all that afternoon, and they were all worried about him. He’d looked ill after Hayley had walked through him, and she hadn’t been in the best shape either. Jamie sighed, lost in thought as he opened his wardrobe—

\-- And screamed, slamming the doors shut and stumbled back. He tripped over his own feet, landed on his side with a crash, his hip aching, pins and needles racing down his arm where he bumped his elbow.

‘ _Jamie?!_ ’

‘I’m fine!’ he yelled. His voice cracked, straining with a mix of fear and pain. He gritted his teeth and hissed out a breath, trying to calm himself as he stared wide-eyed at his wardrobe, the double wooden doors snapped shut against each other.

‘Jamie? You sure?’ his mother called up again, closer than before.

‘I’m fine! Really,’ he shouted again. After all, what teenager still had the bogeyman hiding in his closet?


	6. You Better Pay Attention

Yeti's bustled around the empty hall with mops and buckets, sweeping the ice water out towards the door. They wore rags wrapped around their mouths and noses against the smell of the gargantuan corpse rotting in the ankle deep ice water, golden sand eating away at the flesh left behind. It watered their eyes and made them gag and grumble, while the elves didn’t care: they busied themselves using empty pails as transport, racing each other across the half frozen floor, gabbling and laughing as they careened out of control, crashing into each other and the yeti's hairy ankles. More yeti's chipped at the wall of ice at the back of the hall, pulling themselves up and down the great metal scaffolding fixed to the slowly melting glacier, the thunderous crack of ice against ice echoing through the hall. Pockets of it floated across the mosaic like lily pads, speckled with oil-slick droplets of ichor sludge from the disintegrating Hivemind.

Angus, a brown and white yeti, growled a warning at three elves that rolled too close to him, huffing as he straightened from his mop and bucket, the water almost black. He looked around the hall at his fellow workers, murmuring under his breath. The light was dim even with the torches lit all the way up to the ceiling, casting irregular shadows as the yetis and elves wandered back and forth across the hall.  Scratching the back of his neck, he returned to his work, and the figure walking the edge of the domed roof's ridge remained unnoticed.

The well dressed man wandered along the narrow ledge, the perilous drop to his immediate right inconsequential to him as he stared through the glamour around the mountain. He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the hall below him, clicking his tongue against his teeth. Shadows trailed his steps, rising and falling to the ground as they watched him with wary interest. Above them, a flurry of moths circled each other erratically. The Fearlings growled at them.

‘Now, now,’ the man chastised. ‘Let’s all play nice.’

The Fearlings retreated, dropping low to the ground. He ignored them, studying the damage to the hall one final time, before he spun around fluidly and faced the darkness.

‘Find the bogeyman,’ he commanded, before looking up at the moths. ‘And hurry up with the children, before I have to deal with the Guardian’s interference.’

The moths rose up in a cyclone, disappearing into the night air. The Fearlings slithered back into the darkness, and the man paused a moment. He looked up at the moon, haloed in light against the inky black of the night sky; he smiled, dipping in an exaggerated bow before disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

‘Okay, Pitch,’ Jamie whispered, standing at the edge of his bed facing his wardrobe. He held a baseball bat in sweaty palms, adjusting his grip on the smooth wood. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here, but if you think you’re going to cause trouble here then, then you’re going to have to go through me first.’

There was silence from behind the door, and Jamie swallowed. He hadn’t slept at all during the night, Abby curled up on his bed since he wasn’t making use of it. Her snores punctuated the silence in a steady rhythm, oblivious, just as Sophie and his mother were, in their respective rooms down the hall.

They had looked at him strangely when he’d come downstairs in a pyjama top but he hadn’t been questioned on it. He hadn’t gone near his closet since he’d discovered Pitch hiding on the floor in there, and had spent the whole evening glancing towards the stairs, or up at the ceiling wondering when Pitch would emerge and start wreaking havoc.

Disconcerting silence was all he had received, even when the lights had been switched off and his family had drifted off to sleep. Not even Sophie had felt even an inkling of what hid in Jamie’s room. He hadn’t even told her Pitch was there; terrified she’d start poking around his room and wardrobe, trying to stand up to Pitch like Jack and the Guardians. She didn’t remember the threat of fear, cornered in an alleyway late at night.

_There’s more than one way to snuff out a light._

He shuddered, swallowing around the taste of bile at the back of his throat. He’d been haunted by those words since that night. They had seemed insignificant in the aftermath of the fight, after Sandy had returned, after they’d defeated Pitch and the Guardians had flown off in the light of the early morning sun, but night followed day and with it came the darkness that had threatened Jamie and his friends. Alone in his bedroom, with shadows dancing across the walls and the wind making the trees creak and moan, he recalled Pitch’s words, the unspecified threat conjuring gruesome, twisted acts of violence towards him. It left him unable to close his eyes for fear that Pitch had escaped and was coming after him, gradually getting better as the years went by and he began to sleep more easily, but it was always there, lurking in the back of his mind, and now it had returned full force with Pitch's presence.

He took a deep breath, stepping off the end of the bed as quietly as possible, inching closer to the wardrobe. He would not be afraid of Pitch, he couldn’t, not with the possibility looming over him that he would go after his sister and friends once he was finished with Jamie. He reached out one sweaty palm to the door handle and, gathering his courage, he gripped the handle tight and swung the door open wide, hand wrapped around the bat a second later, ready to swing at whatever spilled forth from the depths.

Nothing attacked him.

The seconds ticked by, quiet except for Abby’s snores.

Confused, and curious, Jamie squinted into the darkness of his wardrobe, looking for Pitch amidst the myriad of shapes and folds of his clothes. He stepped forward and reached for the thin cord of the light and pulled. He blinked against the sudden brightness, pushing his clothes to one side and searching the back of his wardrobe, and found Pitch curled up in the far corner. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms looped around them. He looked smaller than Jamie last remembered. His head rested against the wall, tilted to one side with his eyes closed. He looked asleep, or dead. Jamie couldn’t decide, and he knelt down to get a closer look, laying the bat down beside him and reaching out to touch Pitch’s cheek.

Cold fingers clamped around his wrist and yanked him forward.

His scream cut short, a hand slamming over his mouth, bony fingertips digging into his face.

Bright yellow eyes burned under the fluorescent bulb as Pitch dragged him close till they were nose to nose. A low growl made him flinch, but it wasn’t Pitch: Abby stood on the edge of Jamie’s bed with her head held low, heckles raised as she snarled at Pitch. Pitch looked at her over the top of Jamie’s head, staring her in the eye. His lips curled back in semblance of a snarl, glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

Her growl cut off into a pitched whine, and she jumped off the bed, slinking out of the room with her tail between her legs. Jamie watched her leave out the corner of his eye, his fear escalating as Pitch's attention returned to him. There was no sound, no movement from his mother’s or Sophie’s room; he was completely alone.

‘You should’ve left well enough alone,’ Pitch rasped, ‘instead of stumbling around in the dark.’

Jamie tried to speak, but the hand around his face was unrelenting, turning his words into indistinguishable mumbles. His free hand scrambled behind him, searching for his bat kicked away in the scuffle. Pitch’s nails bit into his skin when he tried to pull away, and he winced, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Pitch looked brutal: his grey skin mottled dark with bruises, one eye partially swollen, his face riddled with jagged wounds crusted over with dirt and dried blood. On his long, gaunt face it made him look scarier.

Giving up on his bat, he hooked his fingers around Pitch’s hand, trying to pull it away from his mouth. ‘Mhm hmmm!’

‘I’m sorry; I didn’t quite catch that, little believer,’ Pitch sneered, and Jamie just stared at him, trying to lean away out of his grip, twisting and turning. He mumbled against Pitch’s hand again, his heart thumping. Pitch glared at him for a moment, considering.

‘Try not to scream, you don’t know what it might attract,’ he said eventually. He pulled his hand away from Jamie’s face, releasing his wrist and sliding back into the closet, bracing himself against the wall and folding his arms across his chest, pulling his knees up again.

Jamie scrambled back, picking up the bat and scrambling to his feet, pointing his weapon at Pitch. Pitch glanced at him out the corner of his eye, a cold smile on his bloodied lips.

‘You don’t expect to actually do any damage with that now, do you?’

‘Looks like someone already did that,’ Jamie retorted, gripping the bat even tighter. Pitch glared at him, a sneer curling his lip and splitting it open. He licked at the blood before it escaped down his chin.

‘Don’t get arrogant, little last light,’ he warned. ‘I’m still the bogeyman.’

‘I saw you get dragged away by _My Little Pony_ five years ago,’ Jamie said, feeling braver standing over Pitch with a weapon in his hand. ‘I can’t say it really takes much to be fearless around you, these days.’

‘Liar,’ he said, closing his eyes and letting his head drop against the wall. ‘I can smell your fear; I can see it wrapped around you like a shadow. You still remember my Nightmares; you still remember the terror they evoked. I guarantee, you remember them quite accurately.’

‘So, where are they?’

Pitch didn’t say anything, his face twisting into a grimace.

‘Pitch?’ Jamie asked. ‘Where are your Nightmares? Why are you here, anyway?’

‘The darkness is… blissfully non sentient,’ he murmured. ‘And your home is quiet, at least it _was_.’

Jamie pursed his lips. ‘What do you mean “non-sentient”? Is it something to do with what you said before, about my screams attracting something? Pitch… are you _hiding_ from something?’

Pitch gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut like he had a headache.

‘Oh my god, you _are_!’ Jamie dropped the bat to his side in shock. Something was after Pitch, and he’d taken up residence in Jamie’s closet to avoid it. He recovered from the revelation, leaning on the bat, chin raised, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

‘And you came to the _last light_ for protection,’ he said. ‘Well, I’m sure there’s _something_ I could do to help you.’

‘Go away?’

‘Oh, come on, Pitch. Don’t be like that. What could be so bad that the _bogeyman_ is hiding from it?’

Pitch glared at Jamie, and the teenager shrank back, remembering who he faced.

‘Want to find out?’ Pitch offered darkly. ‘You better pay attention, Jamie, or else you won’t notice what’s sneaking up behind you.’

‘What are you talking - ?’ A shadow flickered across the edge of his vision, and he swung his bat up, his eyes on his bedroom window. ‘Pitch? What was that?’

He heard the click of the light turning off, the room thrown back into darkness as the closet door swung shut. Once again alone, Jamie swallowed, edging towards the window. The curtains hadn’t been closed properly, letting illumination from the street filter through into the room, casting shadows. He drew one curtain further back, peering out into the street.

The world was still dark, the street lights illuminating the frost that had settled in the coldest hours of the night, decorating his window pane in curling patterns. It would snow soon, likely with Jack’s help when he returned. In the condensation, he drew a snowflake with his fingertip, wondering if it had just been fear and his imagination playing tricks on him. Nothing stirred, the wind barely shifting the bare tree boughs. Jamie drew the curtain back further to get a better view when a dark smudge fluttered under the light of a street lamp, catching his attention.

‘Huh?'

He leaned forward, pressing his face against the glass as he looked out into the street, his eyes straining to find something. He turned his gaze to the sky, and against the inky black, he saw hundreds of moths dancing around each other as they spread out across the rooftops up and down the street.

He followed their path, his brow furrowed in confusion when a light tapping drew his attention to a stray moth battering itself against the window pane, like it wanted into his room. It seemed to realise it couldn’t enter, and drifted along the wall towards Sophie’s room.

Something didn’t sit right, fear uncurling in his gut as the moths spread out further and further across the neighbourhood. He dropped the curtain back into place, hurrying out his door and down the hall. He tiptoed past his mother’s room on the other side of the hallway, careful not to wake Abby who had taken up residence in the middle of the floor, and slipped into Sophie’s room as quietly as he could.

His little sister was sound asleep in her bed, hanging precariously off the side of it as usual, oblivious to the world around her and snoring as loud as Abby. He heard the tapping at the window again, and approached with a growing sense of trepidation. He pulled the curtain back and watched the little moth bang against the window pane. He swallowed, resting his hand on the window sill beside the stuffed rabbit toy she kept there – a present one Easter with a chocolate egg, and they guessed the fur came directly from Bunnymund.

The tapping grew more insistent, and he glanced up in time to see the moth slam itself one final time into the glass before it flew away, sulking. He pulled a face, confused, dropping his gaze –-

\-- and swallowed a gasp, stumbling back from the window, pressing his hand across his mouth to stifle the sound stuck in his throat. He returned to the window cautiously, unblinking as he stared at the claw marks scored into the outside sill, ten in two groups of five deep lines, like ragged finger nails scraping across the wood.

He swallowed. His heart raced in his chest, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. He drew his trembling hands away from his mouth, breathing like he’d run all the way across town and back again. He looked back at the cloud of moths travel further away over the houses before he left Sophie’s room and hurried back to his own.

‘Pitch,’ he whispered as he dropped the bat onto his bed, grabbing his jeans and yanking them up over his pyjamas. ‘Pitch?’

He pulled open his closet, searching for Pitch. Pitch looked up at him, a bored look on his face. ‘What are those things?’

‘Something you shouldn’t meddle with,’ he answered cryptically, watching as Jamie pulled two t-shirts and a sweater off their hangers.

‘I’m going to find out what those moths are,’ he said. ‘You can stay here if you want. If you try to hurt Sophie or my mom you’ll regret it, okay?’

‘I’m _trembling_ with fear,’ he drawled, ‘of a child stumbling around in the dark.’

Jamie frowned and reached up, grabbed a flashlight from the top shelf. He clicked it on and off again, testing the battery.

‘Now I won’t be,’ he said, and shut the door.

*

‘This was a bad idea.’

He could see his breath swirl in the air every time he exhaled. He had underestimated how cold it was even with all the layers he had thrown on when he had snuck out the house. He readjusted his hat as he pushed himself closer to the tree trunk, waiting. He had managed to tail a couple of moths across the neighbourhood, watching them phase through bedroom windows and back out after a time.

He regretted not bringing his baseball bat, remembering the deep gouges outside Sophie’s window with a shudder. He knew a spirit must’ve done that, one that for some reason he wasn’t able to see. Now he hid in the shadows, pressed between a tree and a trampoline in someone’s garden, contemplating climbing the stupid thing in order to peer in the window to find out what was happening inside the room.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up and came to a decision. He wasn’t getting anywhere hanging around outside, he had to see what the moths did inside the houses. Straightening his jacket, he climbed onto the trampoline and bounced up, grabbing the lowest branch. He winced as the freezing wood stung his fingers, forcing himself to climb up onto it. He perched there, steadying himself before he pulled himself up onto the next set of branches.

In the distance, the old town clock struck quarter to three.

‘Ugh, great,’ he muttered, swinging his leg up on the bough he gripped. The witching hour was near, when all the ghosts and ghouls came out in full strength. Testing his grip and the strength of the boughs the higher he went, he finally reached the window the moth had disappeared into, straddling the branch outside it: the curtain was wide open and the room was dark, the shadows indistinguishable from one another. He leaned forward on the branch, straining his eyes, and waited in the eerie quiet that had settled around him. He considered turning on his flashlight, a simple defence against the dark, when the clock struck three, breaking the silence.

He swallowed, fear creeping up his spine. Ever since he stepped out of his house, he had felt uneasy. He had thought Pitch had followed him, but he’d been alone on every street. His next thought was that it was because he’d left Pitch with Sophie in the next room, but thinking of how badly Pitch had been hurt, he didn’t look like he would be scaring kids anytime soon. So it was just Jamie, several blocks away from home and feeling like he was in danger. He shivered and squinted into the darkness again.

His blood ran cold as the shadows moved, and one rose up over the bed.

Towering over the young girl asleep in her bed, a hag with mottled grey skin and pale, burning eyes smiled with shark like teeth, a rivulet of dark liquid running down her pointed chin. She raised a gnarled, clawed hand and wiped it away, lapping it up with the tip of her split tongue. Rags and fur hung off of her hunched figure, the colours replicating a moth. Her hand now clean, she opened her mouth wide and bent down over the girl again.

Jamie screamed in horror.

Startled, the hag reared up, turning to stare at him.

A second scream joined Jamie’s, the girl now awake. She looked between the hag and Jamie outside her window before bolting from beneath the covers and out her room. Lights came on from within the house, raised voices following and the creature shrieked in fury, twisting towards the window and rushing forward.

Jamie tried to swing his leg over to climb down when he lost balance, toppling off the branch and landing on the trampoline beneath him. The springs squeaked in protest as he bounced and rolled onto his back, looking up as the hag flew out the window and clung upside down to the side of the house. She hissed at him and opened her mouth wide, an ear-splitting, inhuman shriek escaping her throat.

A replying shriek answered her. Jamie gazed up at the sky, and saw hundreds of the monstrous women where there had been moths.

He screamed, leaping off the trampoline and barrelling out into the street, angry shouts from woken-up adults drowned by the hungry screams of the hags as they followed him down the road.

* * *

‘You’re worried, aren’t you?’ Jack asked, glancing at Sandy. Sandy sighed, and nodded after a moment, his brow furrowed. He sat on his glowing cloud of sand, small tendrils detaching themselves from the swirling mass and taking sweet dreams to the sleepers below as they flew overhead. Jack glided alongside him, catching the different winds and coasting along the breeze. After the hall had emptied, North had made it clear that none of them were to go off on their own. Jack couldn’t help but feel that warning was directed at him, and had ducked his head in embarrassment, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes or speak up – until North had suggested Nightlight and Jack work together.

_‘We work to our strengths, pair up,’ North ordered, falling into his role as leader. Not even Bunny questioned or argued with him. ‘Tooth, Bunny – you can cover ground from below and above. Jack and Nightlight-’_

_‘NO!’ Jack yelled, and Nightlight shook his head, refusing to speak after his short conversation with Jack. North and Bunny shared a look._

_‘We don’t know each other’s strengths,’ Jack explained quickly. Nightlight gave a look that made it clear he didn’t think Jack had any. Jack glared, receiving one in return._

_‘Guardian should stick with Guardian,’ Jack continued. ‘I’ve known you guys longer than I’ve known him, so maybe North could-’_

_Nightlight struck his staff against the ground, furiously tapping his own chest when he had everyone’s attention._

_‘Go with Nightlight...’ Jack trailed off, running his tongue over his teeth. Nightlight smiled._

_Jerk,_ Jack thought, barrel rolling in the air beside Sandy. He liked Sandy, of course. Jack always found comfort in his presence. He had been the only Guardian he’d actually been able to interact with regularly, when he caught sight of golden dream sand drifting across the sky. He’d played with it, sending a gentle frost through the grains, and when he touched it, he could’ve sworn that it had warmed between his fingers. He liked to think it was a message from Sandy: _It’s okay,_ _I know you’re there._

It had helped ease his loneliness until it was time he decided to go home. But he’d missed North the most during his travels, his advice, and his belief in Jack. When believers were hard to come by, he’d wished North had been there to help him through it, wished he could’ve just flown up to the pole and asked for some support, if it wouldn’t have meant bothering him and the yetis. When he experienced the wonder of gaining new believers, he wanted North to be there to share his joy. He imagined it sometimes, what he'd say and do, but he ultimately hadn’t sought him out, hadn't wanted to disturb any of them when they busy rebuilding their homes, their lives, busy doing their jobs while he tried to do his. He hadn’t wanted to look like he slacked off, like he wasn’t taking his role as a Guardian seriously. He felt that that was more important than ever, now.

He had still missed them all. It didn’t look like his sentiments were shared.

Sandy waved his hand, getting Jack’s attention, shrugging his shoulders questioningly. _What’s wrong?_

Jack pursed his lips, shaking his head. He didn’t want to complain to Sandy about his own insecurities and frustration. It would be selfish when they had to deal with bigger issues.

‘It’s nothing, just, trying to figure out what could’ve done that to Pitch’s lair,’ he lied.

They had decided that the location of the last opening to Pitch’s lair was a good place to start, and they’d found it, opened once again under a battered old bed. Already on alert, they’d gotten half way down the tunnel when they saw it had collapsed in on itself. It had taken a lot of squeezing and shimmying to pull themselves through, and when they’d eventually entered his lair, they’d stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the wreckage around them.

The whole place had been destroyed: top to bottom, nothing had been left untouched. The slanted walkways and twisting stairwells had been shattered, bridges broken in the middle and rendered useless. Huge craters littered the floor, holes opened up in the rough stone into an empty pit of blackness too dark to see anything in the depths. The cages that had once kept the mini fairies captive were torn from their hangings, warped and twisted, some were splintered open like animals had torn into the metal with claws and teeth. Pillars and balustrades and balconies were still crumbling away, debris smashing to the floor intermittently with thunderous crashes, echoes rumbling through the cavern and shaking the ground beneath their feet. Neither of them dared enter far, and it was clear that Pitch was long gone.

‘You don’t think Pitch is behind this, do you?’ Jack asked, cocking his head to one side.

Sandy paused, thinking, before he shook his head.

 _Killing Katherine in a fit of rage, I considered it possible,_ he explained with simple pictograms. _Not the emptiness though. Pitch’s centre is fear, not nothingness._

‘Did... did I read that right? Can something have nothingness as their centre? It sounds kind of... contradictory.’

Sandy grimaced, and nodded his head. He beckoned Jack onto the sand cloud beside him and Jack barrel rolled over the side, landing beside Sandy and flopping down, crossing his legs underneath him. He kept his staff close to his chest, ready to use it in case of an attack.

Sandy shifted, turning to face Jack. His sand moved, forming the pictograms slowly in order for Jack to get the clearest meaning out of them. _There was something evil, a long time ago. It was much worse than Fearlings and Nightmare men and Dream Pirates because it believed, without a doubt, that it was doing the good and right thing. It twisted thoughts and words and actions, preyed on the vulnerable and the desperate with deals and bargains that seemed like the answer to prayers only to carry a sting._

‘What was it?’

Sandy raised his hand, ready to shape an answer when a frightened scream pierced the air. Jack was upright immediately, staring over the edge of the cloud, trying to spot the source. Sandy followed his gaze, scanning the street beneath them.

They saw him just as he turned down the street they were drifting over, pursued by winged creatures with long, curled talons. He tripped and stumbled, falling to the ground.

‘Jamie!’ Jack yelled, recognising him even from a distance and dove off of the sand cloud without waiting for Sandy.

Sandy reformed the golden cloud into the shape of a manta ray, pulling the loose sand trails back to him and directing them towards the creatures converging on Jamie. Larger than life animals stampeded out of the glowing yellow grains – prides of lions and packs of wolves, roaring as they jumped over the teenager and tore through the swarm. Jack landed beside Jamie as he scrambled back, breathless and red faced and staring with wide, frightened eyes.

Frost lightning split out of Jack’s staff in a thunderous crack and lit up the street in a brilliant electric blue as he pulled Jamie up and behind him, becoming a barrier between the creatures and Jamie.

Sandy flew down to hover beside him, standing on the manta ray’s back, his twin whips slicing into anything that tried to get too close. His animals joined the barrier, snarling and clawing at the reaching hands. One dived over Sandy, shooting straight for Jamie, ignoring the barricade of carnivores in her way when she was yanked back by a wooden crook around her neck.

‘Jamie, run!’ Jack yelled, holding his staff like a bat and swinging it in a wide reaching arc. Jagged spikes of frost lightning scattered through the flying witches, striking some of them dead. Jamie remained frozen to the spot where he sat, watching as they hit the ground and disappeared into ash swept away by the wind, as if they had never been there. More followed suit as Jack and Sandy battled them, whips cracking through the air and frost and snow freezing onto their skin and wings.

They were ugly creatures, all sharing the same opaque stare and torso’s covered in thick, fuzzy fur, ragged skirts trailing from their waists. Their hair hung limp around their faces, feathered like antennae and when they screamed, they revealed rows of vicious looking teeth, made for tearing and ripping.

‘What are these things?’ Jack demanded, jumping into the air and fought the hags in closer range. ‘Do they have something to do with Pitch?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Jamie said, finding his voice. ‘I think he’s hiding in my closet because of them.’

‘Wait, what?’

The fighting stopped, a break in the melee as the hags cocked their heads to one side, clicking and hissing at each other. The largest of the eclipse shrieked, and in a rush of beating wings and flapping material, they reverted back to their moth form and retreated from the Guardians over the rooftops.

Sandy called his creatures back to him and they rejoined the cloud in unformed masses of sand, ready to be called again into battle. Jack dropped to the ground and ran over to Jamie, who stood just beyond Sandy’s cloud.

‘Jamie! Are you okay?’ Jack asked. Jamie nodded, wrapping his arms around himself and tried to stop shivering.

‘I’m okay,’ he assured the Guardians. ‘But I think Pitch is in trouble. He’s already injured.’

Jack and Sandy shared a look, before Sandy beckoned Jamie up onto his sand cloud. Jack helped him up, and he was enveloped in a hug from Sandy, warmed by the sand around him, and his shivers abated. Sandy motioned for him to hold tight before they shot up into the air, Jack close on their heels. Jamie would’ve enjoyed the flight if it had it been any other time, if it hadn’t been for those things. Sandy felt his residual fear, and patted his clasped hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. They weren’t too far from his house.

* 

A constant pounding jolted Pitch from his half-asleep state. He blinked, looking around him to place where he was before he remembered.

The hammering became irritating. He thought for a moment the young brat had returned wanting answers that he didn’t stand a chance of getting, when the screeching yowl assaulted his ears.

Not the brat.

He sighed, his head dropping back with a resounding thump. ‘Damn brat.’

He braced his palms against the wall behind him and forced himself up into a standing position, ignoring the pleading, pained creaks and clicks from his joints and the flaring burn from his muscles. He reached into the shadows, tried to move through them when his body rebelled. He felt like he stood on the precipice of an abyss and he stepped back. If he tried to move through them now, he’d be lost for a long, long time.

He sighed, gritting his teeth in annoyance and pain, reaching into the shadows again and calling them to do his bidding instead. The remaining Fearlings inside his mind woke up, pressing at the edges of his consciousness, hungry for a fight.

He would give them what they wanted.

 *

The hags swarmed the house: they clung to the walls and the roof slates, scratching at the window sills and hammering on the glass. Inside, Abby growled, nosing her way into Sophie’s room. Seeing the shadows pass the window, she howled a threat, bounding up to the window and ducking her head under the curtains, barking at the creatures that circled in the air around the house.

‘Abby, be quiet,’ Sophie mumbled in her sleep, turning over in her bed and tugging at her greyhound’s short white fur, oblivious to the chaos outside her window.

 

‘Come on!’ Jack yelled as he dived over Sandy’s cloud and sent a crack of frost lightning at the hoard of witches, scattering them. Sandy followed, setting Jamie down to hide behind the tree in his garden, indicating he shouldn’t move. He summoned his sand creatures again – giant owls and golden dream sand eagles that snatched at the hags, taking them in tight grips and flinging them off into the sky. Sandy flew with them, his whips grasped tightly in his hands, circling Jamie to keep the creatures away from him.

Their numbers slowly diminished, but they did not flee. Frost bite crept up their arms, blackened their fingers and the bony edges of their faces, but they still attacked, alternating between slamming into the house, trying to get to Pitch, and throwing themselves at Sandy or Jack to get Jamie. A dog’s frantic howls could be heard from within the house. Lights started to flicker on up and down the street, followed by angry shouts of “what’s going on, out there?” and “shut that dog up”. The main light was switched on inside the house.

An eagle pecked at one witch to tear her limb from limb when it stopped, it's beak open wide as if in excruciating pain. It twisted, curling in on itself, bent and warped out of proportion as darkness seeped into the grains, turning them glittering, ebony black. A horse’s angry shriek rang out and the Nightmare reared from the remains of the bird. A tall, dark figure leapt out of the window onto its back, an arrow notched in nothing but his hands, drawn back with deadly purpose. Jack and Sandy stared, gaping at the sight before them. Even Jamie craned his head round, watching as the Nightmare galloped through the air, golden eyes flaring in the mass of dark sand. Pitch loosed his first arrow, striking the heart of one creature before letting a second, and a third one fly. All hit their target, and the witches gave pause as Pitch led his horse to the ground, standing apart from Jack and Sandy.

The Nightmare shook it head, tossing its thick mane as it waited for its next instructions. The hags bared their teeth and Pitch returned it in kind, snarling.

A decision seemed to be made and the hags dissolved back into the form of a moth and spiralled away into the night sky, leaving the four staring up after them. The sand creatures dissolved back into shapeless streams and wound their way back to Sandy. Jamie shuffled out from his hiding place, tucking his cold hands under his armpits, shivering again.

‘So, what now?’

Jack turned to answer when the front door flew open, Jamie’s mother silhouetted in the doorway.

‘Jamie Bennett!’ she cried, racing down the steps. Abby followed her, overtaking her and bounding up to Jamie. She leapt up, wagging her tail and trying to lick his face.

His mother was close behind, running up to him and grabbing his shoulders. ‘What on earth is going on? Why are you outside at a time like this? For God's sake, Jamie, you’re freezing!’

‘Uh, I uh... down Abby, down,’ he ordered, pushing at the greyhound. He shivered, winced when more shouting came from up and down the street, and his mother looked up with a frown.

‘Never mind, let’s just get you inside,’ she said, ushering him back to the house. ‘You almost gave me a heart attack when I couldn’t find you.’

Jamie glanced back at the Guardians once more, unsure: Jack and Sandy nodded, waving him back to the house.

‘Jamie!’ Jack called, and Jamie glanced over his shoulder as surreptitiously as he could, slowing his footsteps. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can. Tell the others to look after yourselves, and each other. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.’

Jamie nodded minutely, disappearing into the house with Abby and his mother, leaving the three spirits alone. People were still shouting up and down the road, disturbed from their sleep. Jack looked at the light illuminating the street from the houses, and grimaced.

'Whoops,' he said.

*

Pitch scoffed quietly behind Jack, and Jack turned to glare at him, as if remembering he was there. Pitch leaned forward on the Nightmare, bracing himself against the ridge of her neck on folded arms as he looked at Jack, cocking an eyebrow.

‘Careful Jack,’ he drawled. ‘Promises are hard to keep.’

‘And you find it hard to stay down when we knock you down,’ Jack replied, raising his staff. Pitch glanced at it with boredom, raising an eyebrow.

‘I told you, you can’t kill fear.’

‘Looks like someone gave it a good shot.’ He nodded to the marks on Pitch’s face, and the one around his neck that dipped down his chest and under the collar of his robe. ‘You look _awful_.’

Pitch rolled his eyes, nudging the Nightmare Onyx in the flank to get her moving. He ignored how his body protested, the stretch and the pull of muscles that did not want to work as he forced himself to stay upright on the Nightmare. He rode up to Jack and Sandy, who had not stowed his weapons away either. He eyed Pitch with distrust and wariness, but Pitch could see the concern behind the anger, the curiosity regarding his injuries.

‘I’d hate to surprise you, Frost, but you are not my only enemy. Certainly not my most formidable,’ he said.

‘Oh, does that means you know what’s happening?’ Jack asked. ‘Great, that’ll make everything go a lot faster back at the pole. Let’s go.’

Pitch laughed, shaking his head as he grinned down at him. ‘You must have me confused with someone else, Frost, if you think for even one second I would lower myself to help you Guardians.’

‘Not just the Guardians, actually,’ Jack replied, leaning on his staff and casually inspecting his nails. ‘There are quite a few people who want to talk to you.’

 _Are there?_ Pitch thought, keeping his face impassive as he stored away the information. Interesting. A gathering on such a large scale had never happened before, at least not on this meagre planet. So someone else must have been targeted by him, someone big who everyone placed the blame for on Pitch. He frowned, drawing the reins on Onyx, turning her around and looking over his shoulder.

‘Well, I seemed to have missed the memo, and I don’t believe in arriving fashionably late to a party,’ he said breezily, calculating his next move. ‘So, I must decline the offer.’

He snapped the reins and prepared to leave, when Onyx stopped, braying. He looked over her neck, confused when Sandy floated up into his vision, standing on a sand cloud with his arms folded, tapping his foot. _Great_.

Pitch swallowed. Even at full strength Sandy could beat him in close combat. The way he was at the moment, well, he had suffered enough embarrassment at the hands of the Guardian to last the next few millennia. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for a quick exit. His grip tightened around the reins, Onyx’s ears flicking up in tune with his nervousness.

‘Now really, Sandy,’ he said with a forced smile. ‘You can throw me around with your whips all. You. Like,’ _please don’t,_ ‘but you won’t be able to make me come with you. The only way you can get me to the pole is to drag my cold, dead corpse there.’

He paused, a smug smile plastered onto his face. ‘Good luck with that.’

Sandy glared at him, looking ready to fight when his scowl transformed into a slow, innocent smile that made Pitch feel trapped. Raising a clenched hand in front of him, he opened it carefully to reveal a handful of golden dream sand sitting in his palm.

‘Sandy,’ Pitch warned, his voice strained. ‘Don’t you d-’

Sandy blew the sand into Pitch’s face with a single short puff.

Pitch squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching his nose up as if he smelled something horrible. Blinking, he dropped the reigns and rubbed his eyes with his hands and his arms, trying to brush away the grains. He could already feel sleep creeping up on him. His eyes were heavy, as much as he tried to keep them open. He gasped, gripping the Nightmare’s mane to keep him grounded as he fell forward, unable to keep his body upright.

‘Sandy, you little sh-’ he whispered, before he toppled off his steed, caught by Sandy’s cloud of dream sand before he hit the ground. Onyx disintegrated into a thin tendril of black sand, shooting into the folds of Pitch’s robe, safe from the golden dream sand that would destroy her.

Jack looked down at Pitch, raising his eyebrows. ‘Now why did we not do that before?’

Sandy shrugged, grinning as he pulled Pitch up to lie more securely on the sand cloud. He beckoned Jack to follow as he rose higher into the air. Jack jumped up; catching a breeze easily as he followed Sandy back to the North Pole.


	7. Cause He's Not the Bogeyman

Pitch blinked against the morning sun, blinding and warm against his skin. He snapped his eyes shut again and turned his back to the light. He couldn’t fall asleep again as remnants of a dream now forgotten scattered into oblivion, like dust blown away in the wind. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand, and blinked his eyes open once again, his brows pinching together as he looked up at the ceiling. Twisting around, he observed the small, unrecognisable room with minimal effort, tilting his head this way and that to study his surroundings. He was comfortable, lying on a feather soft mattress and pillow, the quilt rumpled around his legs, kicked away while he’d slept. Dream sand swirled around the room, along the windowsills and in front of the door: if he tried to breach the barriers Sandy had created, the Guardians would be alerted.

He ignored the sand for now, focused on other things. The air was warm, scented with pine and sugar and spice: he could hear the distant racket of labourers at work and the fainter jingle of bells. He rolled onto his back and raised his head just enough to see over the window sill above the bed. He looked out into the white tundra surrounding the workshop, and let his head drop back with an irritated sigh.

He tapped his fingers against the mattress beneath him as he stared up at the swirling sand above his head. He was brought here for a reason, instead of being thrown back into his dilapidated lair: Jack had said as much and little else. He eyed the sand, scowling, before he pushed himself up onto his elbows, a wave of nausea rolling through him, his head spinning as he forced himself to sit up fully.

He lowered his feet over the edge of the bed and breathed through his nose, fighting for even, deep breaths as he retreated to the darkness behind his eyelids. Fear hung in the air, thick and heavy. It surrounded him, enveloping him like a warm blanket. It didn’t surprise him, always aware of the fears surrounding him. They invaded his senses: a tang on the tip of his tongue or a vapour wisp tickling his nose. He saw the shadows clinging to people, colours bleeding through if the fears were strong enough, images flickering in the darkness if they were even stronger.

He blinked his eyes open and cocked his head to the side, filtering through the fears, cataloguing what they were and to whom they belonged. An underlying panic wove through them, attuned to his presence. Flattering, but ultimately useless.

He finally turned his attention back to the golden sand around him, reached out and skimmed his fingers through it. It was warm against his skin and danced around his fingertips, playful and trusting. He smiled and bled black into it, watching as the shadows engulfed the sand and turned it towards his control, the long ribbons of gold warping into a glittering mass of nightmare fuel. The shadow’s he had acquired at the last light’s house had been most useful. With less than a dozen Fearlings – the weaker, slower ones who had used his body as a shield during the invasion – he needed the ammunition.

The nausea returned with a vengeance and the room tilted, the conversion draining what little energy he had recovered in his sleep. He fought against it, swallowing as he forced himself to move against the pain. He felt someone fast approaching his room, their fears ringing with his name.

He shifted, pushed himself back onto the bed until his head rested against the headboard, and he clasped his hands behind his neck, kicking one leg over the other. He leaned back, comfortable just as the door swung open to reveal three yetis standing in the threshold. They each held large, wicked looking weapons in their hands, their furry faces contorted into snarls. Pitch cocked an eyebrow and his lips pulled back into a grin. He extended one hand and called the sand to him with a flick of his wrist, the sand streaming through his fingers and into his robes, close on hand, safe.

‘Record timing,’ he drawled, sliding his hand back around the nape of his neck. ‘I suppose you’re here to act as my escort?’

The leader growled, grumbling deep from his chest. Pitch rolled his eyes, and swung his legs off the bed, rising to his feet. He stayed upright through sheer force of will to maintain the remainder of his dignity, and advanced on the yetis with slow, calculated steps so his legs didn’t give out from under him. He clasped his hands behind his back, raising his chin to give the illusion he was looking down on the seven foot tall creatures. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

‘Tell me, what makes you think I won’t just slip into the shadows and leave?’

Three blades levelled with his eyes. He blinked, going near cross eyed as he looked down at them and back up to their wielders, his smile growing wider. The grey one on the right growled, snorting.

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘This sounds _far_ more entertaining.’

*

‘Really, North,’ he drawled. ‘All this fuss to get me here, you could’ve simply extended an invite.’

‘You were more than welcome to follow moonbeam. You are familiar with them, yes?’

‘Quite.’ Pitch replied, looking out the corner of his eye up at Nightlight, who glared back, his hands tightening around his staff. His fears were muted, buried under anger and grief, and even those emotions were squashed down by years of discipline. The cracks were there, though, the darkness of his inner turmoil seeping through his mask.

He looked around the mountain’s hall, eyeing the spirits surrounding him, tense in their seats. His smirk widened: their discomfort did not feed him so much as his ego, and he took any small victory when it was handed to him gift wrapped. The Guardians themselves were on edge just as the rest of their guests were, watching Pitch with caution from where they stood, banded together on their dais directly above him.

Except, he noted, for Jack, who stood apart from the others. Not noticeably, if you weren’t looking for anything amiss among the ranks, but Pitch always noticed. It’s how he was able to push their buttons with hardly any effort. The shadows around him were dark, oil slick colours bleeding through it saturated silver and blue. Nightlight’s face flickered to the surface before it was swallowed up again, and Pitch smirked, tucking away that little piece of information away for later. 

His eyes turned to the back of the hall, where the floor and wall were tarnished black, spider webbed cracks gouged deep into the mountain. The seats and the stages they sat upon were splintered and cracked, and many were shattered beyond repair. A slight chill permeated the air, conflicting with the warmth of the workshop, tinged with an underlying scent of darkness. The spirits kept as far away from the damaged area as they could, the sight of it discomforting them as much as the sight of Pitch did.

‘You might want to think about redecorating,’ he drawled, catching Jack’s eye, relishing the discomfort and embarrassment on his face. Jack shifted his weight between each foot, one hand buried in his hoodie pocket as the other slid down the length of the Shepherds crook and back up, fingers dancing along the wood. He was particularly focused on a patch of hoar frost that spread out from his palm, picking at it with his thumbnail, keeping his eyes downcast.

‘Pitch, you are called here to answer for crimes committed against spirits of this world,’ North stated, drawing Pitch’s attention back to him.

Pitch cocked an eyebrow. ‘Oh? Need I remind you of how things usually work? First I actually _do_ something that provokes retaliation, and _then_ you retaliate.’

‘Looks like someone already did,’ Jack O’Lantern called out, his voice carrying from one of the higher levels. Pitch glared at him over his shoulder, a snarl pulling at his lips. Pitch imagined he thought himself incredibly brave to antagonise him, all the way over from the other side of a crowded room. ‘Seriously, what happened to your face?’

‘I’d ask the same of yours,' he said, turning away, 'but we both know how that story _really_ goes.’

The pumpkin sitting on his shoulder growled, but they did not try to retaliate: despite his bravado, neither was strong enough to take on Pitch. Pitch focused again on the Guardians, and saw Jack shoot Jack O’Lantern and his pumpkin a warning glance. His scowl deepened; Jack hadn’t wasted time making friends.

‘The only act I am guilty of, would be trying to jump ship on a sinking world,’ Pitch replied. ‘Something I suggest the rest of you consider.’

‘Fleeing this world will not change anything now that Katherine is dead,’ North bit out, his expression hard as he said it.

Pitch’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped. The news was a punch in the gut after the several he had already taken, leaving him unable to speak. Katherine was afforded an immunity known by no other in the world. Her stories bridged the gaps between them and the humans, regardless of whether the spirit in question needed belief.

‘She’s dead?’ he repeated.

‘Yes.’ North nodded. He stroked his beard, his arms folded across his chest. ‘Fearlings were found in the remains of her library.’

Pitch stopped short, closing his eyes as his shoulders slumped. Spirits were difficult to kill; they needed to cross paths with something a lot bigger and a lot nastier than themselves. Fearlings were some of the biggest and nastiest known in the universe, and it confirmed his suspicions of the reason for his lair invasion.

The emptiness inside him swelled, pushing at his frayed seams. He felt cold and exposed, the gazes of hundreds of spirits bearing down on him, full of scorn and distrust. The remaining Fearlings shifted at the edges of his consciousness at his distress, watching through his eyes, listening for an enemy to attack. He allowed them, but kept them tightly reigned in, desperate not to lose any more of them that day.

‘What have you to say in your defence, Pitch?’ North asked, patient despite his anger and grief. North was, above all else, disgustingly fair.

‘Not guilty,’ he said, clipped.

‘Liar,’ Bunnymund challenged, sending a ripple of murmurs around the hall. Pitch narrowed his eyes, pressing his tongue between his teeth and cheek.

‘Did you see my lair, rabbit?’ he asked. ‘Did you see the destruction? Did the Sandman and Jack tell you of the Shtriga terrorising Burgess, and most likely the world?’

The Guardians said nothing, sharing a look between them. Pitch smiled.

‘Yes. I thought you'd know of them – Albanian, hide themselves as moths? Drink the blood of children to steal their life force? How are those little lights on the globe faring? I doubt you’ll see much change for a few more weeks, but after that...’ Pitch trailed off, letting the implications hang in the air. Jack stepped forward, leaning over the railing.

‘How do we reverse it?’ he demanded. ‘How do we save the kids?’

Pitch shrugged, spreading his arms out wide. ‘Usually it just requires the child drinking the blood of a Shtriga to reverse the effects, since they almost never travel in eclipses. On a much larger scale, they’ve been summoned, and they are tethered to the one who summoned them. Get rid of him, reverse the effects.’

‘We’re not looking at him?’ Bunnymund pressed. Pitch raised his eyebrow, narrowing his eyes at Bunnymund. His darkness clung to him like a second skin: he was the only spirit in the world Pitch had trouble reading, like small, faded lettering in an old book. It still didn’t make him completely immune, and when the colours and shadows finally coalesced into a definitive fear, Pitch jerked back, his eyes widening.

‘You know you’re not,’ he said in realisation. He looked around at the other spirits, who started to shift and fidget in their seats, avoiding eye contact. He knew what to look for now, finding it easily as he picked them apart at a glance before moving on to the next one. They all told him the same thing.

‘Oh dear,’ he drawled, grinning up at the Guardians. ‘You are so desperate to avoid the truth in the matter, hoping you are mistaken. I’ll let you in on a little secret: you’re not. Whatever you think has returned to this world, whatever you think is coming, it is.’

He laughed then, raked his fingers through his hair as he stared up at them. ‘You all want to blame me for the death of Mother Goose, for the destruction of her library, when I relied on her just as any of you. You want to blame me for harming the children, but I need their fear. Both are rather useless to me _dead_.’

He shook his head again, laughing. He clasped his hands behind his back as he began to pace around the centre of the floor. ‘No belief, no bridges, no _us_. Just this world turning into nothingness and the universe will soon follow, because in case you’ve all forgotten, I’m not the only thing that goes bump in the night. I’m just the only one who gives you fair warning.’

‘And you wonder why you fail.’

Pitch yelped, and spun around in fright. His shock was echoed by the collective shouts and yells around the hall. He could taste the surge of fear that surrounded him as he back tracked from the figure standing in the shadows, leaning against the wrecked, iced over wall.

He made no sign that he was ready to move now he had revealed himself, his hands buried in his trouser pockets, one leg kicked over the other as he relaxed beneath one of the broken podiums. Dressed in a finely tailored two-piece grey suit, a plain shirt underneath that had the top two buttons undone, he exuded nonchalance and superiority in equal measures, his empty hollow eyes watching the spirits as the ones closest to him scrambled to put distance between them. Others remained where they were, frozen in place at the sight of him.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Jack demanded, pointing the crook of his staff towards the stranger. The black haired man tilted his head up, his empty eyes meeting Jack’s. An alien chill ran down Jack’s spine, the hairs on the nape of his neck rising. He swallowed and stood his ground, the only comfort he felt that the Guardians were next to him.

‘Rumpelstiltskin,’ Pitch whispered. His Fearlings screamed, pressing against his mind, clawing at him from the inside out at the sight of the creature. An uncontrollable trembling enveloped Pitch’s body, standing alone on the ground with Rumpelstiltskin. His mouth went dry, his skin prickling. He took another step back, attuned to the injuries he still possessed, the number of Fearlings left at his disposal, the number of enemies that surrounded him. His breath froze in his chest, his mind blanking as his body refused to obey his instinct to _run_.

Rumpelstiltskin wrinkled his nose, clicking his tongue in distaste _,_ revealing sharp, jagged teeth meant for tearing and ripping despite his otherwise sophisticated appearance. Pitch swallowed, and took another step back.

‘Deal-maker,’ Bunnymund snarled above Pitch.

‘Traitor,’ Mother Nature hissed, her hands curling into fists at her side. ‘Oath breaker.’

Rumpelstiltskin cocked an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips. It looked wrong on his face, a movement of muscles that had no emotion behind it, as empty as his eyes. ‘I kept my oath. I did my duty, but people never realise that their actions have _consequences_ ; that a deal is only valid if there is an equal exchange of value for what is desired.’

‘A General asks for his warriors to have the strength of a thousand men, and you take a thousand lives for payment,’ Bunnymund retorted. ‘You exchange information of the Fearling’s weaknesses only to give them the same knowledge. You endangered thousands of civilisations, put innocent lives at risk.’

‘It's balanced,’ Rumpelstiltskin replied, bored.

‘It’s a waste of life!’

Rumpelstiltskin laughed, shaking his head. ‘All life is a waste, distorted and biased and unequal as it is. The light and the dark push and pull against each other in an endless struggle. You think you can guide it, balance it: take from one side, take from the other. Give to one side, give to the other: but for some reason neither side considers that _fair_  . The only true balance is one that only I can provide.’

‘I think we’ll pass on your kind of balance,’ Jack said. Rumpelstiltskin’s focus turned to him, and he cocked his head to one side, intrigued.

‘Tsar Lunar’s newest pawn,’ he drawled, amused. ‘You think I’m the only one who wants balance?’

‘What’re you talking about?’ Tooth demanded. Pitch felt the temperature dropped minutely, even where he stood, and hoped Jack wouldn't do anything stupid.

‘Your dear, old, Man in the Moon,’ Rumpelstiltskin answered. He straightened and stepped into the light, pointed up to the glass roof above their heads. The spirits craned their heads back, staring up at the moon where it hung, still visible in the weak light of morning, watching the procession.

‘If he wanted you all to survive,’ Rumpelstiltskin continued, inspecting his nails. ‘If he wanted the struggle between the light and the dark to continue he would’ve chosen a new Goose as soon as I got rid of the last one. As it happens, you have no Mother Goose and no chance of getting out alive. He wants an end to all of this. He wants an end to all of you.’

Up on the dais, Nightlight lunged forward. North’s arm shot out, his fingers curling around the lip of Nightlight’s collar and pulled him back, keeping him in place.

‘You have kept us all preoccupied with little show with Fearling, and with chasing Pitch,’ North replied calmly, despite the fury in his eyes. He yanked Nightlight back and pushed him behind him, towards Bunnymund, who grabbed his arm to keep him from lunging forward again. ‘You have not given us much time for anything else.’

‘What’s stopping the Man in the Moon now?’ Rumpelstiltskin challenged with a shrug. ‘Come now, I’ll give him this chance for _free_. Choose a new Goose, prove me _wrong_.’

Everyone stilled and the hall fell silent as they held their breath, waiting. Pitch glared up at the moon, willing him to do something, to prove that he cared. All he needed to do was shine a light on one of them – _any_ of them – and the new Mother Goose could begin rebuilding.

He waited for the moon to glow, to cast a shadow of the new Mother Goose.

He waited for a yeti to come rushing in, gabbling that the crystal hidden beneath the floorboards of North’s workshop had activated, had a silhouette hovering in the blue haze depicting the new Mother Goose.

The seconds ticked by into minutes. The spirits started to look doubtful, glancing between their neighbours as if they could find the answer among themselves. Pitch clenched his fists angrily till the knuckles turned white, gritting his teeth as he kept his eyes on the moon.

The Man in the Moon would do something.

He _had_ to.

He remained dormant. Fear turned to terror as their silent pleas remained unanswered, the spirits whispering between themselves, fraught with panic. Pitch squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the roar of unsaid fears crashing over him.

Rumpelstiltskin laughed, gloating.

‘It’s over,’ he said. He nodded up to the moon. ‘He is an old relic, a figurehead from a regime that no longer exists… not even in fairy tales. No one is left to remember it: and if no one remembers you, it is as if you never existed. And you’ll all just fade away in nothingness, and I’ll get what I came for.’

‘Of course,’ he continued, a soft sweetness coating his words. Pitch snapped his head up, eyes wide. His stomach dropped, a chill creeping up his spine as Rumpelstiltskin’s attention focused on him with predatory precision. ‘I still have a debt to collect from you.’

Pitch retreated automatically, throwing one hand up in front of him, jabbing a finger at Rumpelstiltskin. ‘You can’t harm me here; the rules of the North Pole-’

A smile twisted Rumpelstiltskin’s face. The light dimmed, and the spirits looked up to see darkness swarming up the mountain, encasing it in shadows. Fearlings clamoured over each other, their claws scratching at the walls. Thousands of wide, unblinking eyes stared down at the spirits, hunger in their gazes. Pitch whipped his head around, watching in horror as the darkness he once controlled swallowed the mountain.

‘What is this?’ North snarled.

‘Your home has some nasty conditions for entrance,’ Rumpelstiltskin noted. ‘Fortunately, I always have a backup plan.’

‘I should extend to you my thanks, Nicholas St. North,’ he continued, offering North a mocking bow. ‘You gathered quite a few of your world’s inhabitants here, most of the major players, and found the bogeyman to boot. I can collect my debt and I get you all out of my way so I can find what I need without having any of you getting in my way. Tell me, how long were you expecting everyone to stay?’

He turned away towards the shadows – seemingly the only exit as darkness rushed over the mountain hall. Any spirit that could fly was quick to take to the air, shooting for the cracks and fissures in the walls in the vain hope of finding a niche to squeeze through, to escape the Fearlings. They blocked every exit, spilling into the narrow passes, hovering at the edges of the hall for the spirits to attempt escape. The Kings and Queens of the Fae Courts gathered themselves to teleport away, only to fail, stuck where they stood.

Pitch looked down at the shadows he stood in and could feel the depth of them. He would find no safe passage through them, Fearlings waiting for him on the other side. He ignored the unrest around him, colours and lights pulsating in front of his eyes, tasting the coppery tang of panic under the helpless anger rolling off the spirits. Everyone was shouting, moving, unable to fight, unable to flee, ready to dive out into the army of Fearlings in a suicide attempt of freedom. North and Mother Nature were bellowing orders as they were almost completely blacked out under the shadows as the Fearlings shrieked, feeding on the spiralling fear erupting from the hall. Pitch stared at Rumpelstiltskin’s retreating figure, ready to pass through the shadows without any difficulty and leave here, free to end this world at his leisure.

Except he hadn’t: with all the power he wielded and all the power he had acquired with the Fearlings, the earth was still untouched. He needed something from it first, something he hadn’t found yet. He needed time to find it.

Pitch would give it to him.

‘It’s unbalanced,’ he said, his voice dry and raspy. Rumpelstiltskin heard him though, already half way into the shadows.  He stopped, cocking his head to one side as he glanced over his shoulder to Pitch.

The noise around him ceased, leaving him in silence. Pitch looked around, confused. It was if he was watching everyone from within a bubble: he could still see them, his eyes unaffected by the lack of light, could see their mouths move, forming words that remained unheard. Rumpelstiltskin had taken the noise into nothingness without Pitch even seeing him move.

‘I’m listening, Pitch Black,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, his voice strange in the silence. Pitch swallowed, the click of his throat too loud in his ears. His Fearlings screamed in his mind, clawing for control over his body, squeezing his muscles with black liquid tendrils, hooked claws burrowing into his nerves and veins. They remembered their last meeting with Rumpelstiltskin; they did not want to repeat it, especially when he had their brethren under his control. He pushed them back, his headache reduced to a minor pressure against his temples, the weak pounding at the back of his head matching his heartbeat.

‘Allow the others to listen in, as well,’ Pitch said, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘I’ll not be making another deal with you without witnesses, again.’

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, as if hearing a joke. The noise returned full blast, and Pitch winced at the sudden assault on his ears. He kept his eyes on Rumpelstiltskin as he raised one hand to eye level, his palm facing outwards and a sharp, pulling sensation ripped through the air. Anything that wasn’t bolted down or held onto was swept up in the tumultuous vortex: the banners, the decorations, even great chunks of the podiums and seats were all ripped from their places and gravitated into Rumpelstiltskin’s hand where they disappeared, imploding on themselves into nothingness.

The spirits scrambled for purchase in the confusion, grabbing onto whatever they could find, hunkering down low to the ground to escape the pull. Pitch fell to his knees as the strong current pulled at his robe, bowing his body forward. He locked his arms, pushing his hands against the cold marble floor for some sort of support. Rumpelstiltskin flexed his fingers again, and the pulling slammed to a stop.

Pitch gasped for breath as the darkness began to ebb back, narrow shafts of light falling into the hall, illuminating the spirits scattered across the floor. He blinked, and looked up to see the Fearlings retreat, allowing just enough light to filter through to allow them to see. He turned his gaze to Rumpelstiltskin, who had stepped back from the shadows, facing Pitch once more. ‘Now, what did you have in mind?’

Pitch swallowed, meeting his blank gaze. He stood up on shaky feet, brushing off the front of his robes and straightening them. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, confused instead of condemning; waiting to see what would unfold.

‘It’s unbalanced,’ he repeated, stalling as he unravelled his tangled thoughts, tried to figure out what to do. He refused to die at the hands of his own Fearlings; dragged back into the darkness of his lair by them had been humiliation enough.

‘And you know how to balance it?’ Rumpelstiltskin queried, pursing his lips in displeasure. ‘What deal can you make me that will benefit you that I’ll agree to?’

‘Pitch, you can’t make a deal with him,’ North warned.

‘It is madness! You’ll lead us to ruin!’ Mother Nature snapped.

‘Quite frankly, my dear, you’re already ruined,’ Rumpelstiltskin replied. ‘You might as well put on a show on your way out.’

‘You’ll get no more amusement at our expense. We will not-’

‘Given you’re supposedly a neutral party,’ Rumpelstiltskin interrupted, looking bored. ‘You really don’t have anything to contribute to this transaction. So I do suggest you sit down and _shut_ your pretty face.’

Mother Nature bared her teeth at him. Her two companions shifted to her side, whispering in her ear. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the wind outside turning into a fierce gale. Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes flicked up to her briefly before he turned his attention back to Pitch, curious.

‘Do you actually have something to bargain with, or are you merely trying to stall the inevitable? Either way, it is amusing.’

Pitch rubbed his head, trying to think. He opened his mouth to speak, and no words came out: he had no answer, nothing to offer Rumpelstiltskin. He clenched his fists helplessly, trying to form a train of thought that would give them more –

‘Time,’ he said finally. It was a long shot to take, but if Rumpelstiltskin needed it, he’d take some for them as well. ‘Give us time.’

Rumpelstiltskin cocked an eyebrow, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. ‘Time for what exactly?’

‘Give us time to find a new Mother Goose, to begin rewriting the stories.’

‘Why would I do that? You have no reason to suspect there is a new one somewhere out there and even I am not _that_ patient.’

Pitch ground his teeth together, thinking, when Jack spoke up from overhead, perching on the edge of the balustrade.

‘If you’re making a deal,’ he said. ‘The children’s safety has to come into it.’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ Pitch snapped.

‘Jack, don’t!’ Tooth pleaded.

‘Jack! Get back here, damn it!’

Pitch felt a cold breeze by his right shoulder, and he half turned to see Jack wander up beside him, his Shepherd’s crook thrown over one shoulder. Pitch glared at him, but Jack looked straight past him to Rumpelstiltskin, scowling. Rumpelstiltskin watched Jack with interest, unblinking.

‘The kids stay safe? No more Shtriga or Fearlings or anything coming after them?’ Jack asked.

‘Bloody hell,’ Bunnymund snapped.

‘ _Shcherbachov_ ,’ North grumbled, stomping his foot twice on the dais floor. Pitch heard the dais descend to the floor in grinding clicks and whirs before North strode over to stand behind Jack. The other Guardians followed till they stood in a cluster around them, and North reached out and rested one hand on Jack’s shoulder.

‘Jack, do not be getting mixed up in one of his deals,’ he advised. ‘It will be nothing but bad news.’

‘The kids have to be left alone, though,’ he argued, pushing North’s hand away and looking between him and Pitch. ‘We still need their belief, remember?’

‘It’s hardly any use to me,’ Pitch snapped.

‘Jack, we’ll find a way t’ keep the kids safe,’ Bunnymund promised from behind North. ‘We always do. We don’t need a deal t’ do it.’

‘But it’s already too late,’ Jack stressed, sweeping his free arm out to the side. ‘The Shtriga have already gotten to who-knows-how-many. We can’t search for Mother Goose and chase after every moth we see in case it’s a Shtriga.’

‘You could try,’ Rumpelstiltskin suggested, amused. Bunnymund growled a warning at him, and he raised his hands in the sign of truce, unfazed by Bunnymund's aggression.

North turned back to Jack, met his desperate gaze. Jack pressed his lips together, his eyes watering. North sighed, scratching his head and looked to the other Guardians. They said nothing, unsure what to do. Pitch had a sickening suspicion they were actually considering--

‘No! I refuse to add _any_ more conditions to this damned deal,’ Pitch snarled, shaking his head.

‘This isn’t just about you, mate,’ Bunnymund said finally, turning to Rumpelstiltskin. ‘Leave the ankle biters outta this.’

‘Something else has to be offered in return,’ Rumpelstiltskin warned them gleefully. Pitch threw his hands up into the air and the Guardians glanced between themselves, unsure of what to offer.

‘What do you want in return for the children’s safety?’ Pitch ground out, glaring at the Guardians out the corner of his eye as he said it.

‘We haven’t even come to an agreement of what I get from giving you time,’ Rumpelstiltskin evaded.

‘You get the same length of time,’ Pitch replied, shrugging. ‘Do with it what you wish, but give us time.’

‘Again, you have not outlined a time scale to work within,’ he said. ‘And my patience is starting to wear thin.’

‘Fine, ten thousand earth years,’ Pitch snapped. Rumpelstiltskin laughed, throwing his head back and pressing a palm flat against his chest, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

‘Ah, I do like a bit of humour during these deals,’ he laughed. ‘It’s quite a bonding experience, isn’t it?’

‘No.’

Rumpelstiltskin hummed, enjoying himself. ‘Ah, don’t be like that, Pitch Black. You remember how these things go.’

‘Vividly,’ Pitch replied, clipped and sharp.

‘Quite powerful things, memories,’ Rumpelstiltskin reasoned. ‘Valuable too: all your life stored in the cracks and corners of your mind – good, bad, and everything in between.’

There was a pause, a heartbeat, and their stares levelled with each other.

‘Our memories,’ Pitch said quietly.

‘NO!’ Jack and Tooth yelled in unison.

‘Pitch, you can’t offer up _memories_!’ Tooth gasped.

‘Pitch, you can’t!’ Jack pleaded, his hand darting out and gripping Pitch’s robes. Pitch rounded on him, out of patience.

‘Do you have _any other ideas_?’ he bellowed, his voice ringing up to the ceiling. Jack shrank back, fearing an attack. North pulled him away, putting himself between Jack and Pitch. They glared at each other, staring the other down until Pitch turned away from him, glaring with unadulterated hatred up at the other spirits who stood back and watched them silently. ‘Does _anyone_ have _any_ ideas? Or would you rather just give up and save me this trouble?’

No one answered, the only sound was Pitch’s heavy, ragged breathing. He ran one hand through his hair, pushing it back as he turned to Rumpelstiltskin.

‘Our memories?’ he repeated.

‘Your memories,’ Rumpelstiltskin affirmed. ‘One from each of you, for every day you fail to find your precious Mother Goose. That should set up a time scale rather nicely.’

‘The children will be safe though?’ Pitch pressed. Rumpelstiltskin nodded in confirmation, waving his hand dismissively before returning it to his pocket.

‘They’re the second part of the deal,’ he explained. ‘And they’ll be safe. Be careful though, without them, the Fearlings will be looking for new chew things.’

‘The children stay safe in return for the Fearlings coming after us?’ Jack asked. He pulled a face, shrugged. ‘I’ll take that trade; we’ve taken on the darkness before.’

‘Maybe,’ Rumpelstiltskin agreed. ‘But that’s not part of the deal, that’s just a consequence of _your_ demands. Remember that.’

Jack narrowed his eyes. ‘So what do you want in return?’

Rumpelstiltskin smiled secretively. ‘That’s for me to know, and you to find out.’

‘To hell with that, yer not leaving this hall til we know _exactly_ what we’re handing over!’ Bunnymund growled. ‘We know exactly how this goes; you make a deal and don’ even show us the fine print! Ye never have.’

‘What makes you think you are holding the cards?’ Rumpelstiltskin hissed, his calm slipping to reveal a brief flash of something dark and eldritch and too horrific to comprehend before it disappeared behind his refined façade again. If Pitch had blinked he would’ve missed it. He hadn’t, and it left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Beside him, Jack reached out and grabbed North’s arm, and North pressed his hand over Jack’s in reassurance, but Pitch could see they all had the same look on their faces, the reassurance hollow.

Rumpelstiltskin cleared his throat, pushing his dark hair back from his thin, sharp face. ‘Let’s not have this deal turn sour, now. I do hate leaving on bad terms with clients. As we agreed upon, you get to have time to find Mother Goose, and for every day you fail I get a memory from each of you.’

‘If you don’t find Mother Goose by the time your memories run out,’ he added. ‘I take you, the humans, and the whole world, just as I originally planned.’

‘If we do find her, our memories are returned intact,’ Pitch stipulated, swallowing. ‘Then we get rid of you.’

‘Now _that_ would be interesting to see,’ Rumpelstiltskin smiled. He shook his head. ‘You know, I always did like you, Pitch. You made things _interesting_.’

He turned to address everyone in the hall. ‘Your memories won’t last forever, but I’m feeling generous: your memories will remain untouched for twenty four hours. After that, the deal is in effect. Let’s all remember to play fair now.’

He looked back to Pitch, pulling one hand from his pocket and stretching it out in front of him.  ‘Since you made the deal, with some help admittedly-’ he glanced to Jack, who glared back ‘-you can have the honour of sealing it.’

Pitch grimaced, clenching his hands into fists until the knuckles turned white. Rumpelstiltskin watched him, unblinking, as if he didn’t want to miss one moment of Pitch’s discomfort at the thought of being anywhere near him once more.

Pitch huffed a breath and strode forward till he was within reaching distance of Rumpelstiltskin. His skin crawled at how close he was, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin. The memory of their last encounter was still fresh in his mind; the reminders of it spread across his body like lurid flowers in full bloom, their roots running deep through the muscles beneath his skin and digging into his bones. His heart beat out a frantic tattoo in his chest, so hard and fast he thought it would bruise against his ribs. His remaining Fearlings stayed uncharacteristically silent in the back of his mind.

He reached out a cold, clammy hand and gripped Rumpelstiltskin’s, sealing the deal. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders as the deal took hold and gripped tight, like rusted nails digging under his skin. A ripple through the air meant everyone now shared the sense of a sword hanging over their heads, waiting to drop. He released his hand as soon as he was able to, stepping out of reach of Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, satisfied, and tipped an invisible hat to them. ‘I’ll see you all, _real_ soon.’

Light flooded the hall, blinding the spirits. Shielding their eyes against the glare, they blinked and looked around themselves until they realised it was sunlight: the Fearlings that had swarmed the mountain were gone, alongside Rumpelstiltskin between one blink of an eye and the next.

The spirits were quiet, a single sound enough to break the fragile atmosphere left in the wake of the ancient spirit’s presence.

Jack swallowed, breaking that silence.

‘What now?’ he asked quietly, looking between the Guardians and Pitch for answers.

‘We get a head start,’ Pitch replied, staring up at the moon.


	8. A Wild Goose Chase

Mother Nature was the first to snap out of the trance that had descended upon the hall, leaping over the balustrade of her dais and gliding down to the floor in a cloud of billowing green fabric. As soon as her feet touched the ground she strode across the hall, her green eyes blazing, her jaw tense till the muscle jumped under the skin. 'Return to your territories, send word to all those who were not present here and warn them of what has happened! Search out every spirit, every human: man, woman, young, old; anyone who would be a suitable replacement! Calliope!’

She addressed one of the women in long flowing robes Bunny had pointed out earlier, the one draped in dark purple holding a scroll under one arm. Calliope jumped at the sound of her name, composed herself an instant later. Her sisters crowded close to her, as if Mother Nature had addressed them all. ‘Yes, Mother Nature?’

‘Extend more of your influence over humans, see if any of them dabble too close to our world than others would normally do,’ Mother Nature ordered. ‘Let’s see who we inspire. Go!’

Jack ground the butt of his staff against the floor, tapping his fingers against the wood as the hall emptied, the spirits rushing to leave after Rumpelstiltskin’s assault. Nervous chatter filled the air, questions bantered back and forth without any answers. Jack spotted Lady Luck in the crowd, a contemplative look on her face as she followed the flow of bodies out the main doors. Cupid flew overhead, his iridescent wings catching the warm sunlight. He caught Jack’s gaze, and nodded to him before he disappeared out of the mountain. The Guardians stood a short distance away with Mother Nature in deep conversation. Pitch hadn’t moved from where he stood, staring up at the moon with an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed unaware of the looks directed towards him, though Jack caught some of the glares thrown his way. He dropped his gaze to the floor and bounced his foot on against the cold mosaic, waiting until everyone had left before he tried to move closer to the Guardians.

‘Boo!’ someone yelled, and grabbed him around the waist. He jumped, frost lightening cracking the air as it leapt in a high arc from the crook of his staff, curving along the roof of the hall. He whirled around, heart racing in his chest and fear blanking his mind only to stand face to face with Jack-O. Jack-O stepped back, hands raised in truce at the sight of Jack’s staff inches from his face.

‘Woah! Easy there!’ he chuckled. Jack blinked, realised who it was and gasped with relief. He lowered his staff, slumping on it and grabbed the material of his hoodie, bunching it in his fist.

‘You gave me a fright Jack-O,’ he accused. ‘What the hell?’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, waving his hands in front of him. ‘Too soon, yeah?’

‘ _Yeah_ , just a little,’ Jack agreed. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, rolling his staff in one hand. ‘What's with everyone sneaking up on me?’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he repeated, leaning forward on his own staff. Pumpkin Head rested on his back like a bag, his vines looping over Jack-O’s shoulders and under his arms, securing him to Jack-O. ‘Just thought I’d stop and say the offer still stands – meeting up after everyone has dealt with all the official serious business.’

Jack recalled his offer to hang out and meet some more spirits, interrupted by the presence of the Fearling and the search for the Pitch. Now Mother Goose took precedence, and the spirits once again scattered to the four corners of the earth. He ducked his head and scratched his fingers through his hair. Rumpelstiltskin had set him on edge, his skin crawling at the thought of the deal maker. The sour stares he received from the other spirits didn’t soothe his discomfort, his agitation spiking under their glares. He was irritated and restless, a sure combination to cause him to lash out at people.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,’ he apologised. Jack-O waved him off.

‘Nah, it’s fine,’ he said. ‘Honestly, I’d be bawling right about now if I’d gotten up close and personal wi’ _that_ thing. Making deals wi’ the _devil_ , yeah? Ye really are fearless, aren’t ye, Jack Frost?’

Jack shifted his staff so it rested on his shoulder, his free hand slipping into his hoodie pocket. He didn’t feel fearless, remembering the look on Rumpelstiltskin’s face when his business-man mask slipped and revealed the ugliness underneath it. It had left him with a worse sensation than the Hivemind had, when it had engulfed him in darkness. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘That’s why I said it for you,’ Jack-O replied, smiling. ‘Now, all we gotta do is find a new Mother Goose or ours is cooked, yeah? How hard can it be?’

‘Famous last words,’ Jack said with a small smile. Jack-O laughed under his breath and straightened up, throwing his staff over his shoulder, mimicking Jack’s stance.

‘I’ve had quite a few of them, lad, and I’m still going strong,’ he replied, winking. ‘Third time lucky, yeah? I’ll catch you later, mate.’

‘Catch up soon, Jack-O,’ Jack promised, and Jack-O gave him a jaunty wave before he jogged towards the hall doors, Pumpkin Head bouncing on his back. Jack smiled after him, spinning his staff around with his fingertips as he turned back to the Guardians. A shadow flitted across his peripheral vision and he jerked away, his head snapping round to face the dark figure that had invaded his space.

Pitch stood a short distance away, his eyes narrowed and the corners of his lips pulled into a deep scowl. Jack frowned, meeting his glare with suspicion.

‘What do you want, Pitch?’ he snapped, kept his staff spinning in his fingertips, his free hand clenched into a fist in his hoodie pocket. Pitch said nothing, his eyes flicking up over Jack’s head to the doors that Jack-O had exited, before the gold flints returned to meet Jack’s glare.

‘Making friends, Frost?’ he drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

‘What’s it to you?’

‘You should consider picking different ones,’ Pitch said instead of answering, walking towards Jack. Jack stepped back, and Pitch stopped, smiling. ‘Are you _frightened_ , Frost?’

‘Not of you.’

Pitch scoffed. ‘But you're afraid of something.’

Jack scowled, hearing the echoes of the past in those words. He remembered the fear of stumbling around in the dark. His fist tightened around his staff.

‘And you’re afraid of Rumpelstiltskin,’ he shot back. Pitch lost his smile, his expression souring. The bruises scattered over his body were stark against his ash grey skin, highlighted by the high sun, a sign of Pitch's last encounter with him.

‘As you well should be,’ he said. ‘Instead of adding your own demands to a precarious trade as it originally stood.’

‘I did my job as a Guardian, making sure the kids stayed safe,’ Jack argued, his staff spinning to a stop in his hands.

‘Well done,’ Pitch replied sarcastically. ‘We now have Fearlings waiting to chew us up and spit us out because of your meddling, as well as another unknown variable to contend with that will, undoubtedly, be of hindrance to us and our search for Mother Goose.’

‘If it wasn’t for you, Pitch Black, we would not have to contend with the limits of a deal with that creature to begin with,’ Mother Nature said, turning to glare at Pitch, overhearing their conversation. Pitch pivoted and stalked towards her.

‘No, you’d have to deal with a mass of terrified spirits cowering in the dark waiting for it to kill them. You’d also have no chance of finding a new Mother Goose, preferably one with better security,’ he sneered.

‘What do you mean by that?’ North demanded, rounding on Pitch. His voice was low and dangerous, sparks of anger igniting in bright blue eyes. His hands curled into fists by his side. Next to him, Nightlight’s glare was murderous, his cheeks flushed pink, Moonbeam beginning to glow in his hand. Bunny hooked his arm around North’s, stopped him from advancing even as he threw a glare around his bulk towards Pitch.

Pitch folded his arms across his chest, a smirk curling the corners of his lips.

‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘You were all so ready to lay the blame of her death at my feet; where were you, who cared about her _so_ much?’

His gaze narrowed in on Nightlight, he cocked his head to the side. ‘Where were you, Nightlight, since she was so important to you? Where were you, to stop it from happening?’

‘Don’t you _dare_ try to blame him,’ Bunny snarled. Nightlight ducked his head, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he clenched his teeth. His eyes shone, and he blinked to keep the tears at bay. Jack felt a sharp, uncomfortable pang in his chest, and he pushed it away.

‘Failed to protect the Man in the Moon,’ Pitch pressed on, ignoring Bunny. ‘Failed to keep me trapped, failed to protect Katherine. Now all that’s left is to lose favour with the Guardians, the only family you’ve ever had.’

‘That’ll never happen,’ Tooth sniffed, slipping out from under Bunny's arm wrapped around her and wiping her eyes. She glared at Pitch through the tears, reached out to clasp Nightlight’s hand. ‘He’s ours. He’ll never lose anything from us.’

‘Is that so?’ he drawled. He glanced over his shoulder to Jack, who watched them silently. He looked up and met Pitch's stare, before he dropped his gaze to the floor in case Pitch saw the hurt there, his grip tightening on his staff. He heard Pitch laugh.

‘Thought so,’ Pitch said.

‘That’s enough! All of you!’ Mother Nature was suddenly between them, her hands cutting through the air.

She turned to glare at Pitch, who raised his eyebrows and mustered his most innocent smile, raising his hands in truce. North turned away, muttering under his breath and rolling his shoulders to release Bunny’s grip. He rubbed his hand down his face, scratching his chin as he thought.

‘They will need to be human,’ he said after a moment. ‘Like Katherine. That way, they will be bridge between us and world.’

‘If they are human, they will be far too easy to kill,’ Mother Nature said, and ran her hand through her hair. She turned to her companion all in black. ‘Death, I must ask that you monitor every human who you guide to the other side, lest the next Mother Goose follows the first.’

Jack’s eyes shot up, staring at the shadowy figure of Death. The alien chill that crept across his skin when he stood too close to the spirit didn’t feel so alien any more, reminiscent of the freezing temperatures in the waters of his lake. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he took a step back, putting distance between the two of them. Death paid no attention to him, nodded in acceptance of Mother Nature’s request.

‘Thank you,’ she said, before returning her attention to the Guardians. ‘The next matter at hand is what to do about our memories.’

‘He’s hoping we run out of ‘em before we even get close to finding Mother Goose,’ Bunny said, folding his arms over his chest. He shook his head with a sigh. ‘We’re not gonna last three seconds against the darkness if we don’t know who we are, much less each other.’

‘He doesn’t need to worry about us losing all of them,’ Pitch piped up, looking over his shoulder. ‘Some spirits will only need to lose one or two before they start to crack. By the winter solstice, you’ll have a world of raving mad spirits.’

From his place beside Mother Nature, Father Time pulled his hourglass from under his arm. He studied the two empty glass bulbs from under his bushy white eyebrows in silence, the intricate, swirling patterns decorating the surface of the stand he held shifting and rearranging themselves in a chaotic myriad of lines and swirls. On the backs of his pale, slim hands, similar patterns followed the lines and veins across his skin, disappearing under his sleeve. Everyone watched him in rapt silence until he finally raised his head, nodding as if he had known what the answer would be. ‘I believe,’ he said, his dry, wispy voice as brittle as old paper. ‘That would be an accurate time scale before this mission comes to a close.’

‘Three weeks?’ Tooth gasped.

‘Four days before Christmas?’ North spluttered.

‘We’re doomed,’ Pitch deadpanned.

‘Shut up, Pitch,’ the Guardians chorused. Jack’s lips quirked up in semblance of a smile at Pitch’s dour look.

‘We want to _avoid_ that, Pitch Black,’ Mother Nature said. She looked around, spotted a high backed chair close to where they stood and walked over to it. Spinning on her heel, she lowered herself into her acquired seat, the material of her gown fanning out around her. She clasped her hands against her lips, her elbows digging into the arms of the chair. ‘Do any of you have any suggestions to avoid losing our minds?’

‘Tooth, is it even possible that he can take memories from our heads?’ North asked. Tooth dropped Nightlight’s hand, wiped her eyes again. Sandy fashioned a chair from his sand behind her, and she sank into it.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘You know he works under a different set of rules than we do in everything he does. Everything in his power is linked to his deals. If it is stipulated in a trade, it must be done, no matter how impossible it might seem to us.’

‘He could bend all of space and time around himself if he wished, as long as something of equal value was traded,’ Mother Nature said, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms.

‘Except nothing with that kind of value exists,’ Pitch said.

‘Depends on how much you value something,’ Bunny replied, his voice quiet. He scratched his arm absent-mindedly, his claws raking through the fur. Jack cocked his head, staring at Bunny with the same interest Pitch seemed to have with him. Bunny caught Pitch staring, eyed him up and down, bared his teeth. Pitch turned away, rolling his eyes and his gaze fell on Jack instead.  _Great._

Jack pretended to be enraptured by his staff, scratching his thumbnail along the grain even as he tried to pay attention to the conversation at hand, tried to keep up with it but his thoughts got in the way, replaying everything Tooth had and hadn’t said. Nightlight was theirs, he belonged with them. There was a place for him beside them. He dragged his hand through his hair, trying to stop the flow of thoughts in his head. He did it a second time just for something to do. He leaned on his staff, watching the others discuss options and plans without really listening to them. He was, despite Jack-O’s claims, scared. He was scared to lose his memories, after going so long without them, scared of losing the Guardians when he forgot them, and they couldn’t remember him. Five years was nothing: it was a blink of an eye compared to the centuries they had lived, forging friendships with other spirits. Staring at their backs, he wondered how long it would take for his place in their memories to empty, and he would lose them.

‘Unless you already have,’ Pitch murmured, leaning over to whisper in Jack’s ear. Jack recoiled, elbowed Pitch in the chest to put distance between them. He glanced over to the Guardians, but they hadn’t noticed. He turned back to glare at Pitch, throwing his staff over his shoulder and burying his hand in his hoodie pocket.

‘What the hell are you talking about, Pitch?’

‘You know very well what I mean, Frost,’ he replied, nodding his head towards the Guardians. Jack didn’t bother following his gaze, didn't give him the satisfaction, keeping his glare focused on Pitch. His staff flared with white light along the grain of the wood, ice unfurling beneath his fingertips.

‘So, what, you can read my mind?’

‘No, I can read your _fears_ ,’ Pitch corrected. ‘And yours are an open book. It is _fascinating_ : most fears change over time. Yours have remained unchanged, you’ve just added to them.’

‘I’m believed in,’ Jack said, scuffing his foot on the floor, dropping his gaze from Pitch’s before it snapped back up, hard and defensive. Pitch smiled.

‘Yes, you have kiddies thanking you for snow days and outlandish frost patterns on the glass,’ Pitch drawled. ‘Belief works differently when someone believes that you can become accomplished, you can succeed, that you can make something of yourself, that you’re _special_ , that you’re _important_. You think you can still get that with their little golden boy is back?’

‘Shut up,’ Jack hissed. He gritted his teeth and turned away, striding towards the Guardians.

‘I told you once,’ Pitch said, soft enough that only Jack heard him, and Jack hesitated before he realised it was a mistake. Pitch was suddenly behind him, his presence dwarfing Jack. His warm breath tickled the shell of his ear, raised goose bumps on his skin and made the fine hairs at the nape of his neck rise. ‘I told you they’d never accept you. Remember, down in the dark, with no one there to help you?’

Fear spiked within Jack as memories of being chased through the dark, taunted from the shadows rose in his mind. Then afterwards, when he had to face the consequences of his mistake, when he had ruined Bunny’s holiday, ruined their last chance of defeating Pitch. If it hadn’t been for Jamie-

He pushed the thoughts away before they spiralled out of control, tried to think of other things: of snowball fights and magic snowflakes. He thought about the look on kids’ faces when they first saw him, their wide eyes and big smiles filling him with joy--

‘It’s been what? Five years?’ Pitch pressed. His smooth, oiled voice sliced through Jack’s memories and jerked him back to the present, pushing him into darker thoughts. His heart hammered against his ribcage, his skin prickling like someone had just walked through him. He blinked against the sting in his eyes, refusing to let them water. He shouldn’t have left coming back for so long, he should’ve tried harder to gain believers. He should’ve tried harder. That way he would have a reason to come back to North. He would've had a way to not be forgotten.

Pitch took a deep breath, as if he had just smelled something delicious. He smiled, his eyes flicking up over Jack’s shoulder to watch the Guardians. Nightlight stood between North and Tooth’s golden chair of dream sand, dwarfed by North’s size, North keeping one hand on his shoulder while he gestured with the other.

‘Look at them, a complete set,’ Pitch whispered. ‘They don’t even notice you’re not with them and no matter how hard you try, you’ll always be pushed aside in favour of him. He had been gone for so _long_ , and yet there he is, welcomed back with open arms, like a long lost son.’

‘Shut. Up.’

‘And now you’re going to lose your memories,’ Pitch finished, stroking the tip of his finger across his pursed lips. ‘So, I suppose that means we’ve come full circle, and you’re right back where you started.’

Jack twisted, elbowing Pitch in the stomach and pushed him away, feeling the responding force against his own abdomen. Pitch grunted and stumbled back, but he never lost his smile. Jack gritted his teeth, wanted to wipe the smirk off Pitch’s face. He was ready to do it no matter the consequences when Bunny shouted to him over his shoulder.

‘Oi, Frostbite! You think you can knock some brain cells together and help figure out a plan?’ His eyes shifted between Jack and Pitch, suspicious. Mother Nature watched them over the top of Bunny’s head, her green eyes narrow and cold. Jack rolled his shoulders, yanked at his hoodie to straighten it as he wandered over to join the Guardians. He glanced up at Bunny out the corner of his eye and prepared himself to be scolded, but Bunny said nothing, throwing another glare at Pitch before he turned back to the others.

‘So, is there any way to protect everyone’s memories?’ Jack asked, leaning on his staff. Tooth shook her head, rested it on one hand.

‘Rumpelstiltskin has the means to simply take them from our heads,’ she said. ‘It's not like we can hide them.’

‘Isn't there some kind of magic we could use?’ he asked.

‘There are ways to stop people getting in your head, reading yer mind,’ Bunny explained. He shook his head. ‘But's it not the same as stopping people from taking things _out_ of yer head. Unless ye've got a locked box in there.’

Jack blinked, perked up as an image swam to the surface of his mind: a bright, geometric patterned oblong box with his face painted on one side.

‘The boxes,’ he said. ‘The tooth boxes! Tooth!’

He swung round towards Tooth, who sat up and blinked at his burst of energy. ‘Do you only stash the kids’ teeth in your palace?’

‘Everyone who has ever lost a tooth has it stored in my palace,’ she said, her eyes widening, a smile spreading across her face for the first time that day. ‘Everyone has their own memory box! Well, I can’t say for certain everyone has one, depending on how long they’ve been around, but I know there are definitely a number of them stored with me!’

‘And the boxes can keep the memories safe? Rumpelstiltskin can’t get to them?’ Jack asked, biting his thumb.

‘They're just copies of the originals,’ Tooth said. Her plumage began to flare, her wings fluttering behind her. The mini faeries flew around her, chirping and squeaking. ‘You can replay them over and over, even if you don’t remember them. You proved that, when you needed your memory box.’

Jack winced, glanced over his shoulder at Pitch. Pitch raised his eyebrows in return, smiling as he turned away.

‘Is not a perfect plan,’ North said. ‘Not everyone has tooth box, and memories only last up to end of childhood. But as it stands, it is good: saves us from complete disaster.’

He clapped Jack on the back, making Jack jerk forward with the force of it, and smiled down at him. ‘Good thinking, Jack.’

Jack smiled back widely, his fears dissipating. Behind him, Pitch continued to pace back and forth.

'Now that our memories have been taken care of, to some extent,' Mother Nature said: she didn’t sound impressed with it, but she didn’t veto it, 'we should turn our individual efforts to finding Mother Goose.'

She stood up and pushed her hair back from her face. The meeting evidently neared its conclusion.

'I will send word out to the other spirits, follow the Muses lead and use your centres as a guide,' she said. 'Although I am concerned about the strain it will place on you specifically, Guardians. After Mother Goose, you are the next line of defence that keep belief alive.'

'We are already under strain,' North replied. 'We will do what we must.'

'Very well,' Mother Nature said. Her attention turned to Pitch, her glare hard and cold. He stopped pacing, raised an eyebrow in question.

'Pitch Black, you will be escorted on your travels, since Rumpelstiltskin wishes you dead,' she said. 'I do not want to add a new bogeyman to our list of requirements.'

Pitch smiled drily. 'And I'm sure the idea of me roaming free across the world has nothing to do with it. Tell me, how do you expect to find the next Mother Goose through fear?'

'Use your imagination,' she said dismissively. 'Jack Frost, you have your winter duties to attend to now. Keep your focus on them; I want to avoid the world tipping off balance faster than need be.'

‘Uh, sure; I can keep up with snow days in between searching for Mother Goose,’ he said.

‘No, I cannot allow the Heralds free reign across the world when balance is so fragile now. They must remain guiding their season while we search for the new Mother Goose. Their duties are not something that can be done "in between" anything,’ Mother Nature replied, straightening her sleeves. Jack cocked his head, eyes narrowed.

‘Except, I am a Guardian, and it’d be easy to find a Mother Goose who thinks writing is fun-’

‘This is not for discussion, Jack Frost,’ Mother Nature snapped, cutting him off. Jack straightened, shoved his free hand into his hoodie pocket and rested his staff across his shoulder.

‘Maybe not with you,’ he said. Pitch snorted with laughter behind him.

‘Shut up, Pitch,’ Bunny said, covering half his face with one hand, ducking his head. North and Tooth exchanged a sideways glance, and an exclamation mark appeared above Sandy’s head as Mother Nature folded her arms, glaring at Jack. Her hair expanded around her, like a building storm, her eyes sharp flints that could spark lightning. Jack’s gaze flicked to the roof as the sky overhead darkened, thunder rumbling in the distance.

‘You’re a nature spirit, Jack Frost,’ Mother Nature said, her voice raising the hair on his skin. ‘You ultimately answer to me!’

Jack’s gaze dropped back to hers, holding his ground. ‘Like I’ve been doing the past three hundred years?’

‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Bunny said quickly, yanking Jack’s hood and pulling Jack behind him. Jack frowned and stepped to the side: Bunny threw his arm up to block his path, and shook his head in a firm refusal.

‘Mother Nature, Jack is a Guardian-’ North began, raising his hands in a placating sign of truce.

‘Does that excuse his _disrespect_?’ she snapped, jabbing a finger towards Jack. ‘Does that excuse his disregard for the rules that govern our world for his own frivolous reasons?’

‘Hey! I didn’t know about North’s rules and the Fearling wasn’t-’

‘I do not speak of Nicholas St. North’s rules!’ A crack of lightning across the sky made Jack jump. Pitch moved to stand behind Tooth’s chair, resting his elbows on the back and propping his chin on his hands to watch with vicious glee. No one noticed him, on their feet and moving to stand between Jack and Mother Nature.

‘Have you not intruded on other seasons’ domains when it was not your right?’ Mother Nature demanded. ‘Have you not disrupted the _balance_ of the world many times with your lack of discipline, your disrespect for the boundaries between the four, which are there for a _reason_?’

‘I... uh...’ he trailed off, glanced at Bunny. Bunny raised his eyebrows and shrugged, had no defence for him against something that was true. He looked to the other Guardians. They wore similar expressions to Bunny, except for Nightlight, who scowled at him, and Pitch, who looked like a kid at Christmas. He ducked his head, rolling his staff in his hand. Her words stung, echoing Rumpelstiltskin’s belief that the world was unbalanced. It wasn’t ground breaking news that he was a nuisance – he had Bunny as proof – but he had never been malicious. He hadn’t sought to hurt anyone, he hadn’t even known about other spirits when he’d first become Jack Frost. He had been curious and lonely in a big world that didn’t accept him, and had explored to ease the boredom and isolation, hoped he’d find others.

‘I didn’t know about the boundary thing,’ he said, as way of an apology. Mother Nature wrinkled her nose, shook her head.

‘A serious error in your knowledge that would do well to be fixed,’ she snapped. ‘Because regardless of who you answer to, or _think_ you answer to, I am one of the oldest and most powerful spirits known to this world and I am willing to help protect it, but I will _not_ tolerate disrespect from _anyone_ , no matter who they think they are or the status they have been privileged with. Am I clear, Jack Frost?’

‘Yes, Mother Nature,’ he said after a tense pause.

‘Good,’ she said, the clouds overhead clearing, and light flooded into the hall once more. ‘Now-’

‘Best stick in winter during your search,’ North said before Mother Nature could reiterate her command. He smiled at Jack encouragingly, but his eyes held a gentle plea to take the compromise, his jovial tone forced. ‘You are stronger there, da? We will need all strength we can get. Keep up on all the snow days; it will be good to have a white Christmas after we are finished.’

‘Sure, North,’ he agreed. Any satisfaction he had felt from stringing together part of their plan had gone, leaving him as low and worn down as before. ‘I’ll head out now, if everyone is finished?’

He didn’t receive an answer, and turned on his heel towards the door. As he passed Pitch, he saw the triumphant, knowing smirk that stretched across his lips. He drew his hood up over his head, forcing Baby Tooth out of it. Baby Tooth fluttered in the air, looking back and forth between Tooth and Jack. Tooth jerked her head after Jack, and Baby Tooth nodded, flitting after him as he hurried out of the hall.

* * *

North sighed as he straightened up, stretching his arms above his head until his back popped into place after hunching over the desk in his study for so long. A plate of cookies sat untouched beside him, and with one look, he pushed them away in disgust and ran one large, calloused hand down his face. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at the “Naughty” and “Nice” tattoos decorating his forearms. He’d lost track of how long he’d been scanning the lists – past and present – and still he had come up with nothing, the names flashing before his eyes in an endless stream.

He struggled connecting to adults, searching for their sense of wonder in the imagination to create something out of nothing, combined with the naughty and nice lists to find an ideal candidate. He had to reach deeper than usual for his wonder, his centre a dim glow where it had once been a roaring flame. He rubbed his chest, his fist curling in his shirt material and leaned back in his chair: he had found no one that had sparked in him the sense of a kindred spirit, a fellow Guardian. There were many, certainly, who had great potential, and stunning talent. There were dreamers with unshakeable determination, believers who still saw the magic in their daily lives. He watched them detachedly, roaming over the lists of names with a dispassionate gaze.

Every so often, one of the yetis would come to speak with him, discussing this idea or that idea for Christmas, asking him to approve this or that. He had waved them away with a lacklustre response, directing them more and more to Phil for a final judgement. He had regular updates from the medical ward about Kailash and Ombric, who were both – under the circumstances – physically doing well. North had spoken to the older wizard after the meeting with Mother Nature and the others had disbanded, informing him of the trouble that had brewed and the time they had left to rectify it.

He pushed back from his desk, frustrated.

Three weeks. Three weeks before their time – and their memories – ran out, and even if they did succeed, he would still be pushed to have everything prepared for his holiday, otherwise it would endanger the others and the belief they were dependent on for strength. His thoughts turned to those under his watch: Nightlight, who used all of his strength to hold himself together in the wake of their tragedy even as the cracks began to show, as Katherine’s death took a toll on him. It had been years since they all saw each other, and _this_ was the reason they had reunited. Jack’s presence had surprised and confused Nightlight, unaware a new Guardian had been chosen, shy about involving him as a newcomer. Katherine had always helped him overcome his hesitance to meet new people, with her gone he did not know how to react around Jack.

North rubbed his eyes as his thoughts turned to Jack. After losing Katherine, Jack had nearly joined her when he had leapt off the podium and struck the Fearling. Fool he was, it had never crossed his mind to tell Jack more about his home, about the magic that resides within the walls.

He looked down at the Naughty and Nice tattoos again with a frown. It had, once upon a time, been a brilliant idea after a Christmas party with many of his friends from Santoff Clausen and from around the world he had met on his travels. If he should watch over all who are both nice _and_ naughty, then surely both should be welcomed in the workshop. Of course, there had been arguments against it – why would he invite spirits who wanted to _harm_ him into his own home? What if Pitch Black or some other rotten spirit intruded during the night? What if he was caught unaware and without his swords? He had laughed at the genius of his answer: a magic spell that stopped any spirit directly attacking another while they were within his walls or they’d have their attacks rebound.

His arrogance had led to a flawed system.

He had never considered the possibility of housing the spirit population as a whole under his roof and while that hadn’t occurred that day, there had been more spirits attending than he had ever considered seeing in one place. The variables he had calculated had been minimal: he had been thinking of the Guardians and Pitch alone. It was that simplicity that allowed loopholes to be found and abused. Sandy had used it to save Jack, forming a barrier between the Fearling and the crowd. Rumpelstiltskin had used the same loophole for his implosion to silence everyone, avoiding drawing any of them into the nothingness. Jack had struck lucky when he had changed his tactics against the Fearling and tried to slow it rather than kill it.

To lose both Katherine and Jack would have destroyed him, especially since he had not seen him in over five years. Not even the yetis had caught sight of him sneaking into the workshop, and while they would never admit it, they had missed the boy. North had missed him, wanted to know how he had fared over the past five years. The chaos around them had stopped him from saying more than two words to Jack, and he had been no more comfortable around Nightlight than Nightlight had been around him.

He sighed again and rubbed his temples.

‘So, how does the search fare?’

North snapped his head up, glaring at Rumpelstiltskin as he reclined in the chair opposite North, turning a small model – about the same size as the smallest matryoshka doll in the set of models North had for the Guardians – in his hands, whittling it into a similar design. His feet were propped up on the desk and his shoes shone under the overhead lights. Beside them, a chessboard that North did not remember owning sat with a pawn missing from Rumpelstiltskin’s side.

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head to one side, and his empty eyes regarded North.

‘Tell me, North,’ he said, brushing the curve of model with his thumb. ‘How does it feel, trying to find a new Mother Goose, when you haven’t even buried the last one?’

North’s hands curled into fists where they rested, and his teeth ground together as he stopped himself from rising to the bait. Rumpelstiltskin continued to work, undaunted by his silence. North could hear the scuffle of yetis working just beyond the door, the jingling of bells telling him the elves were underfoot as usual. No one disturbed the room.

‘Though you’d have to find something of her to bury first,’ Rumpelstiltskin continued, holding the pawn up to the light between his thumb and forefinger. He kicked his feet off the table, and set it in its position on the board. North looked to where his swords hung in their scabbard and cursed his own magic that prevented him from acting.

He considered amending the rules of his home.

‘It’s funny,’ Rumpelstiltskin said. ‘You know how this ends either way, with no Mother Goose and no chance of saving yourselves.’

‘Nothing is set in stone,’ he said finally, tearing his eyes away from his swords and back to Rumpelstiltskin, who smirked and waved his hand over the board, a silent request for North to play. North glanced at the board, before his eyes returned to Rumpelstiltskin.

‘Deals are,’ Rumpelstiltskin replied. ‘As are the stipulations within them, and everyone has to abide by them. Though some try oh so hard to get out of them. The Nightmare King still has a debt to settle. Come now, I’ll let you move first.’

He spun the board around so the white pieces sat in front of North.

‘How did you get Fearlings? Pitch would never give them up willingly, and no deal would change his mind,’ North argued. He did not touch the chess pieces. Rumpelstiltskin sighed and spun the board round again, sliding a pawn forward. He gestured to it again, and North scowled, slamming a pawn into position. Rumpelstiltskin smiled, leaning back in his chair.

‘Pitch was rather accommodating in our little deal,’ he chuckled, moving his next piece. ‘I asked the Fearlings themselves if they wished to join me: their compliance to me in exchange for free reign across the world. They accepted, but Pitch wanted to add to it. He knows how I _love_ just a little extra to sweeten a deal. He said I could have the Fearlings... Over his dead body. Of course, with a trade like that, I accepted. Now it’s just a case of collecting, but I’m a patient man. I can wait you all out.’

North pressed his tongue between his teeth and cheek, his anger rising as he moved his piece and Rumpelstiltskin quickly retaliated. It was a well known trick Rumpelstiltskin used to put a noose around a person’s neck. A throwaway figure of speech made in anger, and Pitch had given Rumpelstiltskin everything he needed.

‘What of the children? How did they become tangled in this?’ North demanded. They played in quick succession of each other, manoeuvring their pawns and rooks and bishops around the board while they conversed, capturing each other’s pieces with each passing turn.

‘They were... a miscalculation.' He shrugged. 'To be fair, I obviously didn’t deal with them directly. The Shtriga don’t need much convincing if you offer up an all you can eat buffet and point them in the right direction.’

North glowered in disgust, knocking a rook off the board. Rumpelstiltskin responded by taking a bishop.

‘In truth, I thought those little lights were far more important than what they actually are,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, dismissing the idea with a flick of his wrist. ‘Belief is more of a symptom. The bridges between the worlds - that grain of knowledge that gets implanted into every man, woman and child over each generation – now that’s something you all rely on.’

He moved his queen forward. ‘Of course, they did have their uses. Your stories will take time to disappear, so what better way to hurry it along than to have no reason to read them any more?’

North dragged his fingers through his hair and slid a rook out into the centre of the board. Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze flicked up, and he chuckled.

‘Don’t look so miserable, North, your little pawn made sure that little means to an end is no longer available to me.’

‘This isn’t a game,’ North snapped as Rumpelstiltskin took his rook. ‘You cannot speak as if these matters are trivial.’

‘It is and I can,’ Rumpelstiltskin replied, pointing the rook at North. ‘It’s all one big game, and you can think of yourself as a player, but all you do is hide and let your soldiers clear the way for you. The queens, the rooks, the bishops: they’ll only protect you for so long.’

Rumpelstiltskin stole North’s other bishop. ‘Thing about the bishop, though,’ he said, turning it in his hand. ‘He does stick to his morals, no matter how good an offer is.’

North glanced at him, brow furrowed in confusion before he moved his pawn forward again. Rumpelstiltskin laughed to himself, shaking his head and slid his queen into check with North’s king. North slid it to safety behind his own.

‘Your little pawn is quite entertaining, I must say,’ he said with a grin. ‘Quite a spark he has, but there’s always plenty more where he came from.’

He stole a pawn with his last knight, boxing in North’s king. North moved his king again with a scowl: he was running, on the defensive. It meant he was losing.

‘You’re wrong about Jack,’ he said, looking up at Rumpelstiltskin. ‘You’ll realise that by the end of your “game”.’

‘Hmm,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, pursing his lips. He dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. ‘Doubt it. I don’t think he’ll even make it that far. Check.’

He captured North’s queen with his own, and stood up in one fluid motion. He straightened his suit jacket and buttoned it up, smiling. North retreated, backed into a corner, and Rumpelstiltskin moved his knight again. One more move and he’d be in checkmate.

‘Although, it _is_ entertaining to see them struggle to survive,’ Rumpelstiltskin added.

‘You forget about pawns,’ North replied as he pushed one of his last pieces to the edge of the board. It allowed him to swap another in, and he picked up his queen, replaced the pawn with it. ‘There’s more to them than you think. Check.’

Rumpelstiltskin looked down at the board, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to figure out what happened, mapping out their moves in his head. He looked back up and met North’s glare with his own empty one. He sneered, and disappeared within a blink of an eye, leaving North alone with no evidence that Rumpelstiltskin had been there except for the incomplete game and his anger.

He looked down at the chessboard, frowning at the sight of more black than white still in play. The noise from the workshop continued to filter through, the yetis and elves that he shared his home with unaware of what had transpired.

His anger surged out of nowhere, tainting his vision red, and with a wordless bellow he leapt to his feet, grabbed the edge of the desk with his bare hands and upended the whole thing onto the floor. The crash shook the room, the windows rattling in their frames. The plate of cookies smashed on the hard wooden floor, sending them rolling across the room, crumbs and broken segments flying into the air. Drawers flew from their slots, the cupboard doors banged open and cast their contents across the floor. Books and papers scattered; pens, pencils, prototype models clattered to the floor, smashing against the wood. The chessboard snapped in half as it landed, the pieces lost as they rolled away in the mess.

There was a stampede of footsteps outside the door, and a group of yetis burst in, Phil in front. They looked around at the upheaval, before their worried stares fell on North, who did not meet their eye. He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand as he rested the other on his hip. Rumpelstiltskin’s words rattled through his mind, taunting him about Katherine. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, looked down at the tattoos on his skin. He hoped the others fared better in their search.  


	9. The Snow Queen

‘I messed up, didn’t I?’ Jack asked. He kicked at the snow under his feet. Once he’d left the workshop, he did as he was asked, and didn’t stray from winter. He’d sought solitude, though, trying to get as far away from civilisation as he could go without resorting to Antarctica. Baby Tooth had followed him, even though she must have felt the cold. She squeaked, and shrugged without an answer, following close behind him as he stepped over the twisted roots that curled up away from the solid dirt beneath them, as if they could escape the cold. He had lost track of how long they had wandered; the empty, overcast sky remained a perpetual dull grey high above the treetops that towered around them, creaking and moaning as the wind forced its way through the bare, gnarled branches that twisted around each other and intertwined with their neighbours.

‘I’ve been messing up forever,’ he continued. He scrubbed his face with his free hand, pushed his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the sky. Frustration rose in him, and he kicked at the snow again. ‘I didn’t _know_!’

‘I didn’t know!’ he repeated, looking up to the sky and raising his voice, as if someone would hear him. He sent out a burst of snow and ice around him, swinging his staff in a wide arc. ‘No one _told_ me! No one was _there_!’ 

The projectiles of ice struck the trees with a crack, shattering the bark from the trunks and spiralling frost trails across the smoother wood inside. Baby Tooth darted back in surprise at his outburst, ducking the ice crystals that flew through the air. Jack glanced at her, blinking as if coming out of a stupor and looked around at the jagged icicles embedded in the trees, the ice spreading up the bark. A flurry of diamond dust lingered in the air around them, floating in soft swirling drafts to the ground.

Jack dropped his arms to his sides with a resigned sigh and straightened, his head hung low. ‘Sorry Baby Tooth, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

Baby Tooth squeaked, flying up to him and patting his cheek. He looked up at her, a sad frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. She patted his cheek again and shook her head, tried to reassure him he hadn’t scared her. He didn’t look convinced. He blew a puff of air up through his bangs, ruffling them and buried his hands in his hoodie, trapping his staff between his arm and his body as he began to make his way through the forest again. Baby Tooth sat on his shoulder, bracing her weight on her hands and looking up at Jack as he walked.

‘I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do,’ he said, taking his staff in one hand and flipping it over the back of his hand, catching it only to repeat the same move. He glanced down at her. ‘Do I just stay in winter, like I’m supposed to as a winter spirit? Or do I search for Mother Goose, like I’m supposed to... as a Guardian?’

Baby Tooth grimaced, her lips pressed tight together until they disappeared. Jack smiled without any real joy behind it. ‘Do you think they just wanted to get me out of the way?’

Baby Tooth squeaked, reprimanding him with a violent shake of her head and batted his cheek with the flat of her hand. He offered her a crooked smile, but she could still see the uncertainty and sadness on his face before he looked away.

‘I bet I could do it,’ he said. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he kicked up snow with the butt of his staff. ‘I bet I could find her. I could find Mother Goose.’

Everyone loved stories. Everyone loved telling stories: around the campfire or by a single torchlight held under their chin. Kids traded them at sleepovers and the older ones traded them over their computers, adults published them and sold them worldwide, turned them into movies and TV shows for other adults and kids to watch. He’d seen stories change to appeal to the next generation over the centuries, saw them rise and fall in popularity. There were some stories that had been told to him by his mother that were still told today to kids, with some changes here and there.

Mother Goose had been the reason those stories survived. Everyone needed her.

‘I could find her,’ he repeated. ‘Then no one would have to worry. I’d save everyone, and then the Guardians... then everyone would...’

He trailed off, shaking his head. It was wishful thinking, bordering on delusional as his mind conjured up a celebration, where all the spirits gathered and cheered, not for the new Mother Goose – who was a vague, dark shape that his imagination couldn't fit a face to – but for _him_. Shoulder lifted above everyone, the Guardians looked at him with pride and Mother Nature offered him an apologetic smile. Nightlight was nowhere to be seen, Pitch couldn’t get close to him. He was untouchable by anyone who wanted to hurt him, but no one wanted to: he’d saved all of them. He was –-

A sharp crack of dead wood snapped his attention back to reality, and he whirled around, his eyes searching for the origin of the noise between the trees. He looked back at the trail his footsteps had left in the snow, the only evidence of his trail. He narrowed his eyes, confused, and looked around the small clearing. He didn’t recognise anything.

‘Did we take a wrong turn?’ he asked, glancing at Baby Tooth.

She chirped, looked around their surroundings. She jumped into the air above his head and turned in a complete circle, studying the forest. Everything was eerily similar, his trail of footsteps the only thing breaking up the symmetry of the small clearing. Jack’s grip tightened around his staff, his gaze darting left and right.

‘Wind?’ He kept his voice low, and the wind whistled quietly in response, filling the silence. Jack started walking again, kept his staff up and scanned the trees as he passed them, watching the shadows that occupied the space between them. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt eyes on him as he walked. Baby Tooth darted out in front, scouting out the path further ahead.

‘Baby Tooth,’ he called out in a whisper-shout. ‘Baby Tooth, stay close to –’

Another snap of wood – closer now – and he spun toward the noise, frost lightening splitting out of the crook of the staff. It flashed in the dimness, shattering bark from the trees with a splintering crack but did not find a living target. He heard the buzz of Baby Tooth’s wings as she zipped back to him, diving into his hood and peeking out over his shoulder. Her tiny body vibrated with fear against his shoulder, and he raised one hand and curled it around her.

‘It’s okay, Baby Tooth,’ he soothed. ‘You’ll be okay.’

He crept between the trees towards where he heard the sound, ducking his head under low branches and creeping over roots, straining his eyes in the dim light beneath the trees. The wind died around him and the heavy silence returned to the forest. He stared into the shadows, holding his breath as the prickling sensation on the back of his neck spread down his body, cold sweat beading on his skin.

The shadows turned and stared back at him.

He jumped in fright, and leapt back as they pulled themselves into the open. Half a dozen, then a dozen, then two dozen crawled across the forest floor in the shadows, leaving no footprints in the snow. They avoided the patches of sunlight that broke through the barrier made by the tree branches high above their heads, snaking around the shafts of dim light as they advanced on Jack, circling him. He spun around, holding his staff out in front of him, glowing with power. Baby Tooth squeaked in terror, gripping Jack’s hoodie and pulling at it as the creatures kept slithering towards them.

They moved in a bizarre synchrony, indistinguishable from each other as if they existed as a single, formless shadow. Curling tendrils of fluid darkness stretched out across the untouched snow, black droplets beaded on their surface and rolled off them like sweat. It marred the glittering white surface of the snow, splashing on the freezing ground. Each still possessed an individual voice, their whispering filling the forest, trying to speak over each other till Jack couldn’t hear anything except the white noise.

One moved forward, ahead of the others and Jack stepped back, staring at it with a mix of disgust and horror. Frost lightning crackled around the crook of his staff in warning as it crawled forward, low to the ground on all fours. Steam rose from every step, the snow around its feet melting the instant it made contact with the vile, slinking thing. It spoke from a long maw, turning its head to the side to look at Jack with three lidless eyes.

 **Guardian... Guardian...** it growled as it crept forward, the muscles of its back shifting and tensing unnaturally. The others followed it, crawling over each other, shadow pushing shadow aside, the darkness swallowing itself whole only to divide moments later, and the white noise of their chorused whispers grew louder.

‘Stay back!’ Jack ordered. ‘The deal was twenty four hours! You can’t touch us.’

The Fearlings paused, considering his warning. The one closest to him cocked its head to the side, then to the other side before it started to choke spasmodically, a deep guttural scrape from deep in the back of its throat: it _laughed_ at him. The pack joined in, the noise scratching at Jack’s ears, making his skin crawl. His heart hammered in his chest, his palms slippery with sweat around the grain of his staff.

Their laughter grew louder, and he knew they fed on his fear. He tried to squash it down, tried to convince himself he could take them on, but his body seemed to disagree with him, trembling as the circle around him became smaller and smaller and smaller. They weren’t like the glittering, sleek Nightmares that Pitch had commanded in his fights. Jack couldn’t imagine Pitch controlling these things in front of him; he couldn’t even imagine that Pitch could _stand_ being in the mere presence of Fearlings, let alone use an entire army of them.

The Fearling swung its head around and stared at Jack with its other three eyes. It heaved out a breath and opened its maw wide to speak.

**Head start. Head start. Memories stay untouched... but not the rest of you...**

Jack recalled Bunny’s words from the hall. _We know exactly how this goes; you make a deal and don’ even show us the fine print!_

‘Guess that’s the fine print.’

The first Fearling leapt, and lightning exploded from his staff, striking its chest. It shrieked in pain and fell – dead or just wounded he didn’t know – and the rest of the pack stampeded towards him. Jack shot into the air above them, the wind picking him up in a howling frenzy to get him away from the Fearlings, ready to break through them into open air when a wave of darkness shot over him, forming a dome and trapping him in shadow. He halted midair and flipped back, shooting towards the ground and arced wide, flying down a different path through the trees. He didn’t think twice about how fast they were; only that he needed to out fly them. 

Baby Tooth squeaked in his ear and he glanced over his shoulder, gouging the distance between them and the Fearlings. They wove between the trees, stumbling over roots and crashing through snow mounds, they climbed up the thick tree trunks and leapt across the branches, tearing and snapping at anything that got in their way. At the edge of his vision he saw something move: a Fearling jumped from its perch on a nearby branch and he barrel-rolled in the air, dropping several feet in the air. The Fearling soared over him and crashed with a heavy thump, its body bowed awkwardly in the snow where it landed. The rest of the pack jumped over it in pursuit of Jack.

Jack pushed himself to go faster, zigzagging between the trees, trying to throw them off his tail. His heart raced, a battering ram against his ribs, a cold terror sitting in the centre of his chest and spreading out through his body. He couldn’t rid himself of his pursuers: they moved between the shadows, leaping straight at tree trunks and disappearing into them, only to rise up in front of Jack and make a grab at him. He ducked down under the lower branches of the trees, pulling the snow and the wind to his aid, throwing large bursts of half-ice half-snow at anything he could catch in his line of sight. He spun in the air when another leapt from the shadows, swinging his staff and unleashing a sub zero blast of gale force wind from the crook, driving it at a tree. It didn’t hit, flying through the shadows as easily as he flew through the air.

Up ahead, the light filtering through the trees was brighter, indicating the end of the forest. He shot forward, the nape of his neck prickling as he felt them draw closer to him, his fear spiking as he recalled how it felt to be swallowed down by the darkness, how useless his frost had been surrounded by it. He wouldn’t be able fight if they caught him, he wouldn’t be able to escape, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself or retaliate. His terror built, wondering if what he said to Nightlight was true. He was already dead; he died three hundred years before, he couldn’t die a second time; this life wasn’t the same as the last. He still breathed, his heart still beat in his chest but it wasn’t the same, it couldn’t be the same –-

\-- He burst out of the tree line, and careened into a snowdrift, piled high at the edge of the trees. He scrambled out of it, coughing and looking around, dazed. He looked over his shoulder and pulled himself up, dragging himself over the peak of the snow bank and tumbled down the steep incline on the other side onto the edge of a sprawling plain of pure white snow.

It stretched on for miles under the grey, clouded sky, broken only by the towering, jagged palace of ice rising from the horizon. Splintered, twisting towers glittered in the dim sunlight, piling on top of each other in a crowded heap until the tips disappeared into the clouds. Snow blanketed long open walkways that followed the curves and corners of the walls, the gleaming ice blasted smooth by the constant, tumultuous wind. Stalagmites and stalactites joined together as pillars, thick as tree trunks, supporting the higher floors and wide balconies. Thousands of open windows stared at him from a distance, like dark, unblinking eyes.

It reminded Jack of the Workshop, but there were no lights that glittered from within, promising warmth and comfort, no tiny figures ran back and forth along the open walkways, bustling with life. It was a warped, twisted image of the place he was so comfortable to call home, dark and foreboding, as empty as the barren, dead land that surrounded it.

He gasped for breath as the freezing wind battered him from all sides. He looked up, squinting against the power of the blizzard, and saw dozens of eyes stare down at him from the top of the embankment. There they hesitated, shuffled and shoved at each other, clamouring over each other to get closer to the edge, but did not try to follow him down onto the empty plain. Baby Tooth wriggled out of the material of his hood, looking around. She looked up, saw the line of Fearlings staring down at them from the precipice of the hill and jumped in fright, clinging to Jack.

‘It’s alright, Baby Tooth,’ he stammered, pulling himself to his feet, sinking deep into the snow beneath him. He waded back, pushing himself through it and retreated further onto open land, watched by dozens of hungry eyes. He looked over his shoulder at them, confused. ‘Why aren’t they following us?’

Baby Tooth looked around, catching sight of the ice palace behind them, and pointed towards it with a chirp. Perhaps the answer lay there; at the very least, they could take shelter and recover from the chase if the Fearlings weren’t going to pursue them. Jack swallowed, looking between the Fearlings and the palace before coming to a decision. He pulled a gust of wind under his control just enough that it freed him from the snow and nudged him into the air. He tried to keep balance against the blizzard, fighting against the whirlwinds that would send him spinning across the snow field if it wanted. He watched the Fearlings amble back into the darkness of the forest, before turning and shooting straight for the palace.

It was an increasing struggle: the wind became more volatile as he approached the palace, sending him flying off course. He fought against it, keeping his hood up and his staff gripped tight in his hands, Baby Tooth curled at the back of his neck, until he dropped down at the edge of the long bridge that led up to the colossal front doors, guarded by two giant sentinels on either side of them. He couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t even tell what they were meant to depict, blinded by the snow. He glanced to either side of the viaduct at the deep cavern it crossed, so deep he couldn’t see where it came to an end. Parts of it had broken off, swallowed up by the abyss below, the balustrade completely gone in long strips down the walk, large chunks of carved ice scattered across the path in front of him. He and Baby Tooth shared a look, before he gingerly made his across the bridge towards the towering palace.

The wind didn’t abate, sent him sliding close to the edge of the bridge as he walked, his hood pulled up and his arms wrapped tight around his chest to provide some protection from the weather. He risked a glance over the side, and felt a flash of fear as a memory surfaced, unwanted, of being tossed into a deep cavern by shadows. He turned to look back the way he had come, but nothing followed him: he and Baby Tooth were alone.

He approached the door and hammered on the smooth surface. There was no answer, the wind drowning out all other sound. Baby Tooth shivered at the back of his neck, and he made a quick decision: he doubted he’d find any roaring fires inside, but at least it would get them out of the blizzard. Since there was no handle, he braced his shoulder against the door and pushed with all his might. The door scraped against the floor, groaning under its own weight until it opened just wide enough for him to slip inside and shut it again, locking the storm outside.

He heaved a breath, leaning against the door. He reached into his hood with one hand, hooking his fingers around his neck till he felt Baby Tooth’s curled up form, and he gave her a reassuring pat. She patted his fingertips in response, telling him she was okay. He kept his hood up as he turned and looked down the long, cavernous hall before him. It was as tall as it was wide, with no windows, the ice allowing enough light in without need of them: he could still see the raging blizzard outside, warped by the thick walls. High above him, a large hanging chandelier sent fractals of light dancing around the hall.

Pillars stationed like sentries formed a long, uniform line along either side of him, holding the higher balconies and corridors aloft. Set deep into alcoves between them were statues of ice set on round podiums on display. The only break in their long line was at the far end of the hall, where a giant, ornately framed mirror sat, positioned so that it faced away from him towards the carved throne of vicious spiked ice upon a dais, a set of wide, curving steps leading up to it, illuminated by the reflected light off the mirror. Far behind the throne were the only two doors in the whole hall other than the one he had entered.

Jack didn’t really pay much heed to the throne as he walked further into the hall, taking far more interest in the statues. His staff hung loose in his grip by his side, ready to swing up in the presence of a threat, but despite the statues’ odd appearances, he doubted they posed any danger to him. None stood at attention, regal and imposing as he usually saw them: these twisted around themselves, curled up or their limbs thrown out wide, reaching out desperately or looking down upon any who stood and stared up at them. Few were entirely human, and their eyes had a life like quality that made Jack uncomfortable if he stared at them for too long.

Jack stopped in front of one that stood tall and proud, neutral compared to the others with his hand outstretched, as if offering help to a fallen comrade. He pushed his hood down and felt Baby Tooth shuffle onto his shoulder, wanting to take a look at their surroundings. She looked up at the statue as Jack up to trace his fingers along the curve of the hand, impressed with the detail that had been put into the sculpture. He followed the lines of the palm with a fingernail out to outstretched fingers, tapping his nails along the surface. Baby Tooth squeaked at him with warning, but he shushed her with a smile.

‘Relax, Baby Tooth, I’m just loo—’

_Crack_

‘—Oops,’ Jack said, staring at the ice sculpture’s snapped off finger in his hand. He cringed, and looked to Baby Tooth guiltily. She shrugged. Jack bit his lip and pressed the ice against the statue where it had broken off, trying to freeze it back in place. The ice didn’t hold: sparkling spiral patterns of ice fanned out across the statue’s palm but the ice refused to meld together. He groaned, looking around for a way to get rid of it while Baby Tooth tugged on a lock of hair, chirping in Jack’s ear when he had a brain wave, and shoved the ice into his mouth, crunching down on it.

Baby Tooth stared at him, her mouth hanging open, incredulous. He glanced at her and nearly choked with laughter, coughing around the ice. Baby Tooth giggled, covering her mouth and trying to smooth out her smile to tell Jack off and failing, unable to stop laughing. Jack covered his mouth with one hand to stop himself spitting out the ice, and looked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was in the hall with him.

He managed to swallow the ice down with a cough, banging his fist against his chest and wincing at the brain freeze, shaking his head to get rid of it. He wiped his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve and darted away from the statue, feigning innocence as he looked up –

‘Woah!’ he yelped, jumping in fright. His heart leapt up his throat at the apparition sitting upon the throne, swearing the woman hadn’t been there two seconds ago. Completely bleached of colour, she blended in with her environment, camouflaged against the ice and snow in the fractured light of the chandelier. The reflection off the mirror made her pale skin glow; the spider web veins beneath her skin a stark contrast, trailing a map of blue lines across her body. She was clad in ice and snow for a dress, layers of skirts created from something similar to his frost mist spilled down the dais steps in long, shimmering cascades. A spiked crown of long, slim icicles jutted out from underneath a waterfall of white hair; it looked like they sprouted directly from her head. Her arms and feet were encased in carved ice, shaped like bracers and heeled boots, but Jack’s eyes were drawn to the elaborate mask she wore upon her face, opaque opal eyes without pupils staring at him from behind the glittering frost and ice pearls decorating it. A tiny diamond hung from one side of the mask, below her left eye like a tear drop.

‘Um, hello,’ Jack greeted, tried to look friendly and nonchalant even as his eyes flicked to the statue and back to her, wondering if she had seen him break it. It would be hard to explain it away as an accident when he’d eaten the evidence. On his shoulder, Baby Tooth grimaced, looking guilty enough for the both of them.

The woman said nothing, staring down at them with blank eyes. Jack swallowed, eyeing the door over his shoulder, wondering if it would be safer to leave. Baby Tooth squeaked to get his attention and shook her head with the barest of movement, uncharacteristically still and quiet in the woman’s presence. Jack looked at her, suspicion and curiosity spiking in equal measures. He spun his staff in his hand, tapping his fingers along the wood to hide the small tremors that shook them as he walked closer.

‘Um, my name is –’

‘Jack Frost,’ she said, and Jack jumped at the sound of her voice: it was like glaciers cracking, the crash of an avalanche, a howling blizzard. It resonated through the hall.

He swallowed. ‘You know who I am?’

She smiled. It didn’t look friendly. ‘I know all who are of my Season. Yet you seem so eager to distance yourself from me, straying into my sibling’s territories. I would be grateful, if you were trying to expand Winter’s reign and not aid your own frivolous motives.’

Warning bells clanged in Jack’s head, recalling Mother Nature’s scathing remarks towards him. He took a step back, staring up at the woman with narrowed eyes. ‘Who are you?’

‘I am Winter,’ she replied, spreading her arms wide. ‘The Season incarnate, split from my other half and separated from my siblings to maintain the order and balance of the world since the beginning of its existence.’

‘Winter incarnate,’ Jack repeated, staring at her sceptically. ‘I take it I don’t address the Christmas card to Mr and Mrs Winter, then?’

Baby Tooth squeaked, her eyes darting between him and Winter, but Winter smiled, ignoring his dry sarcasm.

‘We have many names,’ she explained. ‘They are learnt and forgotten and change over the years, but some stand the test of time. Names have power when they are known, and I am well known as the Snow Queen.’

Jack’s face changed, the scepticism gone.

‘I’ve heard stories about you,’ he said as he stepped back, put distance between them even as she remained in her seat. He looked at the statues around the hall with their life like eyes, nausea turning his stomach where the ice finger – that might not be ice – rested.

The Snow Queen laughed, reminding Jack of the ominous crack of ice underfoot, as if she had read his mind.

‘You’ve heard _one_ story, told in many different ways over many years. And it never included statues of living ice,’ she added, revelling in his discomfort.

‘Mother Goose once had a plan to use the Sandman in order to spread our stories through dreams. She hoped the humans would tell our stories in their own words, to spread knowledge of us further,’ she continued, resting her elbows on the arms of her throne, clasping one hand around a closed fist. Her expression contorted into one of distaste before it smoothed out again. ‘They certainly managed that. Dreams don’t always stick, and the one’s that do are half remembered and oversimplified. Humans themselves are simple creatures: they paint the world in black and white and call it good and evil, and if you aren’t one, you are the other. Our stories are corrupted and twisted and any belief we do require from them is built on lies.’

‘So you don’t have a magic mirror that makes everything good and happy look ugly and rotten?’ Jack asked, glancing at the giant, ornate mirror on the far wall. He couldn’t see the reflection in the glass from the angle he stood at, but the Snow Queen’s gaze flicked to it before it returned to Jack, her opaque white eyes shining in the reflected light.

‘Take a look Jack Frost, and see for yourself,’ she challenged, her smile wide. She stretched out her arm towards it, offering it to him. He hesitated, staring at the ornate edging with unwanted curiosity. He knew the story, had heard it a hundred times over: the mirror showed nothing of the good in people, but it did reflect all the darkness they held inside right back at them. He shifted towards it, not even a full step, and Baby Tooth shifted on his shoulder, grabbing a lock of his hair. Jack pulled back, shook his head in refusal.

‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. Sorry to disturb you.’

He nodded his head in some semblance of a bow and turned away, heading towards the exit as fast as he could without making it look like he was running away.

'Most Winter spirits wish to linger here,’ she said.

‘I can see why,’ he muttered. He looked around the empty hall, the only sound the howling wind outside battering against the walls. Nothing here reminded him of what he enjoyed about Winter; the laughter of the kids, the soft, lazy powder of first snowfall. The palace was devoid of life, cold and oppressive. He’d spend another three hundred years alone before he thought about calling the Snow Queen’s palace home.

He half turned to look back at her. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I have duties to attend to.’

‘Your responsibilities towards the Guardians and the children of the world?’ she asked, cocking her head to one side. Jack frowned, distrusting her tone.

‘Yes, actually,’ he replied. ‘I’ve already been waylaid by a pack of Fearlings; I shouldn’t waste any more time. Good day to you.’

He inclined his head again before turning and striding towards the door.

‘You won’t find her.’

Jack paused, pressing his tongue between his teeth and cheek. His hand rested on the door, ready to leave.

He spun on the ball of his foot to face her again, swinging his staff up onto his shoulder and pushing his hand into his hoodie pocket. ‘Okay, I’ll bite. Why won’t we find her? Are you even _helping_ us look for her?’

‘It is unwise for us to meddle in the affairs of humans and spirits,’ she said. ‘Just because I appear as a human, it would be a mistake to think of me as one. Even if I could interfere, what would be the point for one human? No, to even dream that you can pull one nobody out of nowhere to take up the mantle of Mother Goose is laughable.’

‘I was some nobody, I was pulled from nowhere,’ Jack replied.

‘You became a Seasonal spirit,’ she said. ‘You may have been chosen as a Guardian but you are a spirit of Winter first. You should _want_ to return here once your duties have been completed as a Guardian, like other Seasonal spirits, not the other way around.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m not like other Season spirits.’

‘No, you’re not,’ she agreed. She brushed her fingertips over her knuckles as she stared at him, thoughtful. ‘You hate it here, where all Winter spirits call home. You refuse to stay within our boundaries; you only use your powers for the amusement of children, even though there was no reason to give you that responsibility in the first place.’

‘Okay, if you’re going to pull the “Jack’s not a Guardian” trick, you’re five years too late,’ Jack said, holding up one hand to stop her speaking. ‘Pitch tried that, it didn’t work: I’m still here, I’m a Guardian.’

He gestured to himself, though from her half-smile he could tell she was unimpressed by what she saw. Baby Tooth nodded in agreement, folding her arms across her chest and sticking her nose in the air, as if that settled the matter.

‘And don’t bother using Nightlight against me,’ Jack added.

‘No? Why is that, Jack Frost?’ she asked, leaning forward in her throne. ‘When names have power, what does it mean when one is the bringer of cold and the other is the bringer of warmth and comfort? Which one sounds like the more logical choice for a Guardian?’

Jack gritted his teeth, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm. He didn’t meet her gaze as his staff glowed white-blue, reacting to his anger. The blizzard outside seemed to get more volatile, hammering at the palace from every side. The Snow Queen glanced out the corner of her eye at the translucent walls, watching the snow pile up on the ledges and blanket the ice, dimming what little light filtered through them.

‘It means,’ he said, trying to squash down his frustration as he looked up at her. ‘The universe has a weird sense of humour, and I’m tired of hearing the same thing over and over again.’

He spread his arms again, leaning forward as the Snow Queen had done. ‘I don’t care about Nightlight’s name or what it means. He wasn’t there five years ago when Pitch threatened the kids. He wasn’t chosen by the Man in the Moon to be a Guardian. That’s not my problem. My problem is that I need to find Mother Goose, and I’m not getting anywhere here. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.’

‘Sooner or later, Jack Frost,’ she called after him. ‘You’ll realise where you truly belong.’

Jack kept walking, pushed the door open and stepped into the raging storm. Only then he stopped, and sighed. He rubbed at his chest, the hollow feeling swelling inside him. It hurt; it still hurt after three hundred years and it felt like it would never get better. He dropped his hand away, reached up and pulled up his hood. Baby Tooth snuck into it, safe from the blast of the storm and Jack leapt up into the air, a destination in mind to start looking for Mother Goose.

* * *

The swarming of her mini fairies in the far west wing alerted Tooth to the presence of visitors. She fluttered down towards the gathering, waving her fairies away with orders to continue collecting teeth or catalogue which memory boxes might hold the childhood memories of a potential Mother Goose. She tried to stay optimistic and cheerful for her faeries, she didn’t want to damage their morale with such a heavy burden, but already she had a staggering list of potentials after only a few short hours of work. Her mini faeries were unable to help her sift through the memories inside, could only search out the boxes or shelve them as she asked. Memories were powerful things, and were all too likely to overwhelm the tiny faeries: a lesson hard learned and not to be repeated.

With so much work to do, she wondered who would disturb her when she caught sight of them, standing on a circular podium of swirling golden sand. Sandy looked unimpressed, glaring at Pitch. It seemed Pitch had convinced him to take a detour to Tooth’s palace, despite the history they had within its walls. Tooth frowned, hovering in the air above them at a distance.

‘Hello, Sandy,’ she greeted, folding her arms across her slender chest and rubbing her arm, side-eyeing Pitch. Sandy offered her a kind smile and a wave, sand shapes dancing above his head. He pointed to Pitch and he lost his smile, the shapes changing to explain why they were there. Pitch clasped his hands behind his back as he waited for Sandy to finish what he was saying to Tooth, a charming smile plastered across his face.

‘Toothiana,’ he said in way of greeting.

‘What do you want, Pitch?’ she sighed. ‘I thought the two of you would be searching through dreams, or nightmares.’

‘Nightmares are the reason I am here, actually,’ he replied, and from behind him about a dozen sleek, glittering black Nightmares with burning golden eyes strode out into view. Tooth darted back, fingers hooked into threatening claws. Behind her, her faeries buzzed in a swarm high in the air, alert and afraid of the creatures that had once snapped them up and carried them off to be put in cages.

‘Get them out of here, right now, Pitch!’ she snapped. She glanced at Sandman, who reprimanded Pitch, gesturing between the Nightmares and Tooth and shaking his head. Pitch held his hands up in a sign of truce, smirking. Tooth wanted to punch him.

‘I understand your distaste for my Nightmares given our history, but I present them to you with good intentions,’ he explained, and Tooth snorted in disbelief. Sandy waved at her to catch her attention, and his sand shifting above his head in explanation.

 _They’re for protection_. He shrugged, rolling his eyes. He looked frazzled, his hair ruffled from the usual sleek points around his head, as if he'd been pulling at it, the bags under his eyes much sharper than they had been before: Pitch travelling with Sandy stopped him from dozing while he spread dreams. It clearly affected both their moods, if their matching scowls were anything to go by.

Tooth turned her attention to Pitch, narrowing her vibrant fuchsia eyes.

‘I don’t need your protection, thank you very much,’ she said. The mini faeries were in agreement, a low drone humming through the tight swarm, light catching and reflecting off of their iridescent green and blue feathers as they moved. ‘My faeries and I can take care of ourselves while we work.’

‘Oh? Something must have improved in five years,’ Pitch said with a smirk.

With a hiss Tooth lunged at him. He stumbled back in shock and raised an arm in defence.

He looked up after a heartbeat, feeling nothing. Tooth hovered above him, fist pulled back and a smirk on her face. She cocked an eyebrow and he scowled, straightening up and brushing non-existent lint from the front of his robe as Tooth backed away, a smug smile on her face.

‘The Nightmare King himself cowers before the Queen of Punjam Hy Loo,’ she said. ‘Tell me, what makes you think I need any help from you?’

‘You might want to consider hearing me out, _your majesty_ ,’ he snapped.

‘Why do you think I need your Nightmares for protection?’ she repeated.

‘Because Rumpelstiltskin gave us something very important: _time_. He wouldn’t give that away unless he needed it as well, which means he’s using our wild goose chase to benefit himself.’

‘How?’ she asked, eyes narrowed. Pitch shrugged, spreading his arms wide.

‘I could guess his reasons, but even if I did, it would hardly be beneficial in regards to our search for Mother Goose,’ he replied. He met her gaze with a stern look. ‘I could, however, guess that he’d try to get to any memory boxes belonging to spirits you hold here. If he’s taking our memories, he must think there’s a use for them other than causing us to forget about our purpose.’

‘So my faeries and I will protect them, as we said we would,’ she argued. ‘So again, what use do I have of your Nightmares?’

Pitch smiled, eyes flashing. ‘Rumpelstiltskin has an army of darkness at his disposal who can travel between shadows without being detected at extraordinary speed. Your palace, as much as it is bathed in light, casts a lot of shadows – shadows that that army can travel through, completely undetected until it is too late.’

‘Only darkness can sense darkness,’ he said, and gestured to his Nightmares. He sounded... almost proud. ‘Think of them as your protection, while you protect the teeth. At the very least they can give you warning so you have time to escape, or attempt defending this place.’

‘I would,’ he added, ‘take the former option.’

He dropped his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. Tooth frowned in thought, looking at the Nightmares in suspicion. They stared back, waiting patiently for their orders. Fearlings lived inside those glittering black grains of sand, the very things that they were going to be fighting at some point. They had stayed with Pitch though, when Rumpelstiltskin had taken control of the rest of them, which meant they were more loyal than their brethren.

Of course, that was like saying a feral dog was more trustworthy than a wolf.

‘How do I know you’re not going to try and harm my faeries or myself?’ she asked. Pitch smiled.

‘I give you my word.’

Tooth laughed, strained and cynical, and said: ‘The word of the Nightmare King? _That's_ what you expect me to believe will safeguard my faeries? Pitch...’

‘Considering it was my word that gave us the chance to get out of this alive,’ he snapped, ‘I imagine it is more valuable than you think it is at the moment.’

Tooth looked at him, deliberating his offer. She regarded the Nightmares with careful consideration, looking over her shoulder at her palace: the large, open spaces in the walls and between the towers, the long shadows that stretched out across the ground. Her faeries swirled around in an ever moving cloud of blurred blues and green, the buzzing of their wings so loud it echoed in the mountain passes: it was never quiet in her palace. She could hardly ever hear anyone approach; no matter how loud they were. Used to the constant movement of her faeries, she never reacted to the flitting glimpses of something passing across her peripheral vision, either.

Bunny’s Warren was protected deep below the earth with his natural light – no darkness could enter it, they could only get as far as the tunnels before they were forced back. Sandy’s Island was impossible to find unless he wanted it found, and North’s home had the magic to protect it as neutral ground. Her palace was exposed.

She sighed, turning back to Pitch and nodding.

‘Alright, I accept your, _generosity_ , Pitch,’ she agreed. ‘But, I want certain rules abided by while they... protect us.’

‘Such as?’

‘They stay outside, patrolling the border of my palace,’ she said, ticking each stipulation off on her fingers. She didn’t see the minute change in Pitch’s expression, the flash of his eyes and the brief downturn of his lips at the corners before he schooled his features back into a neutral, blank mask, listening to her demands.

‘They do not go near my faeries,’ she added. ‘And they do not go anywhere near the children’s tooth boxes. They take orders from me while they are here, and report where they will be at all times, night and day. I don’t want my faeries distracted from collecting teeth or aiding my search by having to scout out your feral Nightmares.’

‘Anything else?’ he asked drily. Tooth paused, thinking for a moment before she shook her head.

‘That basically covers everything,’ she replied. ‘Will they be able to adhere to those demands?’

‘Of course,’ he said, nodding. ‘May I just say that if they believed any danger was within the vicinity, that the first three stipulations can be ignored?’

Tooth considered his suggestion, weighing up her options. Sandy watched from the sidelines, tapping his thumbs together patiently. Tooth finally nodded.

‘Only if they sense danger,’ she repeated, and Pitch inclined his head, agreeing. He turned to the closest Nightmare, stroking its long, muscular neck.

‘You heard the Tooth Faerie,’ he said, scratching the edge of its mane. ‘You are to listen to her orders, and behave while you are under her care. And remember,’ he said, looking in one bright golden eye, ‘you have a job to do. See that you get it done, alright?’

It snorted, nodding its head and trotted over to Tooth, leading the others with it. Only one stayed by Pitch’s side – Onyx – his most loyal Nightmare.

‘Onyx will be able to sense what goes on here, with the other Nightmares,’ he explained. ‘So I will know if they cause you any inconvenience.’

‘You better hope they don’t,’ she warned, and Pitch chuckled.

‘My dear, hope isn’t exactly my strong point,’ he replied, and turned towards Sandman. ‘Now, since our little detour is over, shall we return to our original purpose?’

Sandy nodded, giving Pitch a distrustful look. He turned to Tooth, and sand danced over his head. _If there’s any trouble, I’ll be back as fast as I can._

‘Don’t worry, Sandy,’ Tooth said with a kind smile. ‘I’ll be alright.’

Sandy glanced at the line of Nightmares behind her, unconvinced. He nodded, gesturing for Pitch to follow him as he turned away and flew up over the mountains, waving goodbye to Tooth. Pitch followed on the back of Onyx, the Nightmare leaping across the winds with ease, a trail of black sand mingling with the remnants of Sandy’s cloud as they travelled.

Tooth waved back to Sandy, watching them leave till the two spirits were no more than tiny dots on the horizon. She sighed, looking at the Nightmares that stood patiently, waiting for her to give orders. She made a face, uncomfortable being left with them, but if they could be put to use, she may as well take whatever help she was given.

‘Right then,’ she said, hands on her hips as she studied them. ‘There are... twelve of you? Not a lot for such a big area to guard. Okay, I want three of you at each compass point of my palace – North, South, East and West – and one of you will be atop the roof, one will be patrolling the ground level and one will be in the middle, rotating clockwise.’

‘Um,’ she paused, thinking to herself. ‘If you get hungry or thirsty, I don’t know if you do? Just report to me, and I’m sure I’ll, think of something. Okay, off you go, then.’

They let out a chorus of whinnies, and took off into the air, circling around Tooth’s palace. One held back, trotting up to Tooth and cocking its head. It shook its head and snorted, braying. Tooth imitated it, shaking her head right back at it. The Nightmare stepped back in surprise, blinking at her. She cocked an eyebrow, jabbed her finger up to her palace again, and it cantered off after a moment.

Of course there would be one who was as stubborn as Pitch. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and flew back to the palace. She needed to explain the situation to her faeries. She hoped they’d understand.

* * *

Jamie rolled over, pushing the covers down and rubbing his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in his window. He had slept in the clothes he had ran out of the house in last night, shivering long after he’d returned inside and jumped back into bed, even when he hadn’t felt cold. The night had been just as restless as it had been before his early morning adventure; he’d tossed and turned in sleep, finding himself looking over to the wardrobe and wishing Pitch was still there.

He didn’t understand the reasoning behind it, but Pitch’s departure had unsettled Jamie after he’d been chased down the street by those things. It had left him so frightened that he’d switched on his old robot night light to feel somewhat safer, but that hadn’t helped. He had still felt afraid, heart racing and palms sweating with every creak or groan his house had made during the night. There had been once or twice when he thought he would throw up from fear. He felt like he’d been left without any protection against the things that hid in the dark, like Pitch could stop anything that tried to enter Jamie’s room.

Then again, even if Pitch could’ve stopped those things if Sandy and Jack hadn’t shown up, Jamie doubted he would if it was just to save one of the Guardians’ believers.

Jamie yawned, kicking off the covers completely and lurching out of bed. He looked to the bedside clock, its luminous green light reading 15:33. He’d nearly slept for the whole day. He'd missed _school_.

As he wandered through to the bathroom for a shower, he heard his mother speaking on the phone downstairs: perhaps relatives on the other side of the country catching up with Christmas plans or something, or friends from work wondering if she wanted to meet up today for a coffee. He’d have to get his group of friends together soon, and tell them what had happened: maybe they could research what those things were and figure out how to fend them off when the Guardians weren’t around to protect them. He hoped it wasn’t too late today to gather them.

He’d just sent a mass text out, dried and dressed after a long shower, when his mother called him downstairs. He hung his rolled up towel around his shoulders, scratching it through his hair as he headed down to the lounge, where his mother sat, looking troubled.

‘Mom?’ he asked. He hovered in the doorway, leaning on the jamb. ‘Mom, what’s up?’

His mother sighed and looked over at him, leaning one elbow on the arm of her chair and clasping her hands. ‘I’ve been getting calls for most of the day, about last night.’

Jamie winced as he remembered how many people he had woken up as he’d bolted down the street. He didn’t say anything, watching his mother as he waited for her to continue. She had that look on her face, the one that all mother’s get, when they were really angry but trying not to show it. The same one they had when they say “you can tell me anything, I won’t get angry” only to get furious when they are told.

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to say anything right now.

‘A lot of them were to do with you running down the street screaming,’ she continued. ‘I started to think that maybe your night terrors were back-’

‘Mom, I never suffered night terrors,’ he argued, having gone over this hundreds of times these past five years.

‘I got a call from the Samson’s,’ she spoke over him and he froze. A sick feeling rose up the back of his throat and his heart began to beat faster. Annabelle Samson was in his math class. She had a pixie cut and loved those temporary tattoos you could buy at the mall.

Annabelle was also the girl who he had seen attacked last night, sitting in a tree and looking through her window.

‘Mom, I can explain-’ he began, but she cut him off, a sharp edge in her voice.

‘Do have _any_ idea how serious this is?’ she demanded. ‘What on earth do you think you were _doing_? Mr Samson was ready to take this to the authorities!’

‘Is he?’ Jamie asked before he realised his mistake, so taken aback by statement. His mother looked livid.

‘Jamie, when you are caught staring into a girl’s bedroom, the last person you should be thinking about is _yourself_ ,’ she said, her voice becoming quiet and even. That made it worse. So, so much worse. ‘I told him that I would sort this out once and for all, and it wouldn’t happen again. But you’re going to tell me why it happened in the first place, right. Now! What the hell were you doing? Was it a bet? A stupid little dare that your friends came up with?’

‘No!’ he denied, shocked. ‘It’s not like that! We would never do something like that unless it was important!’

‘WHAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU HAD TO VIOLATE SOMEONE’S PRIVACY?’ she screamed. She jumped to her feet, gesturing towards him and Jamie shifted his weight back. ‘ _WELL_? Why would you _DO_ something like this?’

Jamie raised his hands, palms open as if his empty hands could provide the answer. He shook his head, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He didn’t want to look at his mother, knowing the look of disgust and disappointment that was on her face as she waited for him to answer.

‘You wouldn’t believe me,’ he said finally.

‘Try me,’ she challenged, folding her arms across her chest. Jamie raised his gaze to meet hers, defeated in the face of her rage. He licked his lips, swallowing as he got the words ready.

‘Something was out there last night,’ he said. ‘These vampire-witch things were going into kids rooms and attacking them-’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Jamie!’

‘–And one went into Annabelle’s room but it was in the shape of a moth until it needed to drink her blood –’

‘Jamie!’

‘But when it saw me it called its coven and they chased me –’

‘ _Jamie_! Enough!’

‘–But then Jack and Sandy showed up and they had to take Pitch back to the North Pole after they fought those things and –’

‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’ she yelled, slamming her palm against the wall with finality, and Jamie jumped, pressing his lips together in frustration. He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the carpet.

‘What is _wrong_ with you, Jamie?’ she demanded. ‘You think lying is the best way to resolve this?’

‘I’m _not_ lying!’ he retorted through gritted teeth, blinking as his eyes began to burn, refusing to let them water.

‘No?’ his mother snapped. ‘Jack Frost and the Sandman and this, this Pitch – the bogeyman – and vampires and witches? You expect me to believe that? They are the reason you felt the need to be a peeping tom?’

‘I wasn’t... It’s not _like_ that, I wouldn’t ever –’ he tried to explain, but he couldn’t get the words past the lump in his throat, the burning in his eyes getting worse.

‘Well, you obviously wouldn’t tell me the truth either,’ his mother replied. ‘So you’re grounded until you can.’

‘Mom!’

‘No! Until you can be man enough to look me in the eye and say “yes, I did this because of this reason, and I was in the wrong”, you’re grounded. Are we clear?’

Jamie gritted his teeth, his hands clenched into fists. ‘I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘ _Are we clear_?’

He looked up at her, scowling. ‘Yeah, we're clear.’

He turned away, and stormed up the stairs without looking back. He was so angry, and humiliated: he would _never_ do something like that. He wasn’t some creepy weirdo who went around sneaking on girls. But his mother was now sure that was what he was, and it hurt him, deep in his chest.

He wiped his eyes as he slammed his bedroom door behind him, throwing himself onto his bed and curling up on his side, rolling over to face the wall. He had hardly settled down to stew in his anger and frustration when there was a light knock on his door, and Jamie rolled over in time to see Sophie dart into his room, running over to the bed and throwing herself half on it.

‘What do you want?’

Sophie kicked her legs up, balancing on her stomach on the very edge of the bed as she looked at him, pouting. ‘Were the Guardians really there?’

‘Haven’t you heard mom? They’re just fairy tales,’ he said bitterly, turning back to face the wall when a sharp burst of pain shot up his leg. He threw himself up into a sitting position with a yelp of pain and glared at Sophie, who tucked her fist back under her as she glared right back at him.

‘Don’t be such a _grown up_ ,’ she said, pulling a face as if she’d said a bad word. ‘Did you see the Guardians?’

Jamie sighed. It wasn’t Sophie he was angry at; he shouldn’t be saying things like that to her. She still believed him, she still believed in the Guardians, had enough memories of that time five year ago to recall a large rabbit that had painted eggs with her and a short, round man made of sand that gave her dreams. Every year since then she’d gotten a special present under the Christmas tree, and had been excited over the first snowfall of winter, even when it hadn’t been Jack’s special kind of snow (cause they could _tell_ ) and had hunted more enthusiastically than anyone for Easter Eggs in the spring.

‘Yeah, Soph,’ he replied. ‘Jack and Sandy were there.’

Another sharp pain raced up his leg where she punched him, and he growled, kicking his leg out and pushing her off the bed. ‘Would you _stop_ that?’

She stood up and brushed herself off before she folded her arms across her chest, pouting again. ‘Jerk face,’ she said. ‘Why’d you not take me with you? _I_ wanted to see them too!’

‘Sophie! It was too dangerous. Not all of them were there.’

‘Was Bunny?’ she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

‘No, he wasn’t,’ he assured, rolling his eyes. This conversation was ridiculous. Sophie squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. She darted forward, aiming to give him a thump on his leg again but he was too quick, snatching it away so she only struck the bed.

‘Jerk face,’ she repeated, sticking her tongue out at him. ‘Next time they come back, take me with you. Then you’ll have _me_ to protect you, too.’

‘Sophie...’

‘Take. Me. With. You,’ she repeated, shaking her fist at him. He hesitated, nodded.

‘Fine, but in case you missed it, I’m grounded,’ he said. ‘So, you’d be the one having to take me.’

‘Okay,’ she said with a wide smile. She skipped up his door, about to leave the room when she turned around, whispering: ‘Mom’s taking me over to see Gemma. We’ll be back at tea time.’

Jamie raised an eyebrow as his door closed, considering it in his head. The buzzing of his phone next to his pillow drew his attention, and he picked it up, scrolling through the three messages that had arrived.

_Where are you? @Park w/Pippa. @Swings. Jack’s here. ~Cupcake_

_Yo. You alive? CC & Pip r at the park, meet up there? Will grab Caleb ~Claude_

_Hi, I’m using big brother’s mobile. Mine is charging. Everyone is at the park, will you be there? ((Text my number, not this one)) ~Monty_

Jamie paused a moment, considering the consequences if he was caught or found out, then figured it didn’t matter and typed back his replies. He waited fifteen minutes, until he heard the front door close and the car start up in the drive way, then waited another ten minutes before he leapt off the bed, pulling on his socks and shoes, grabbing a hoodie and a scarf from the back of his chair. He locked the house up behind him with the spare keys hidden in the stand by the front door, and dashed down the street to get to the park as fast as he could.

By the time he arrived, everyone was already there, hanging about on the swings. Jack sat on one the support bars, talking to them. He looked worried. One of the tooth faeries flitted about around their heads, peering into their mouths to check on their teeth. Caleb saw him first, and waved, beckoning him over as the others turned to see him. He raced up, breathless and leaned against the swing set, clutching his side.

‘Hey guys, sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘Mom grounded me.’

‘We know,’ Cupcake replied, and Jamie looked at her confused. She shrugged. ‘Well, we guessed. Adults talk. My mom met Mrs Samson at the grocery store this morning, and then she spoke to Pip’s mom.’

‘Our dad heard it from George’s dad, who heard it from Samson’s next door neighbour,’ Claude added.

‘My big brother blabbed about it to mom and dad,’ Monty explained, looking uncomfortable. ‘He has friends living close to Annabelle.’

‘Oh,’ Jamie said, despondent. ‘What... what did your parents say?’

None of them said anything, sharing a look between them.

‘Guys, come on,’ he pressed. He already guessed what the answer would be.

‘We’re not supposed to hang out with you,’ Pippa answered sadly. Cupcake nodded, scowling at the apparent idiocy of adults.

‘Our dad said if we ended up in any trouble hanging around you, he’d kill us,’ Caleb said, shrugging.

‘My mom’s worried you’re a bad influence,’ Monty added. ‘But I don’t.’

‘Oh. Okay, then,’ Jamie said. He rubbed his head, not sure what to say. Jack hopped down from the support bar and leaned back against it, reaching out and looping an arm around Jamie's shoulder. He pulled him in close for a hug, holding him tight.

‘Jamie, I’m really sorry,’ he muttered against his hair and Jamie shook his head, turning his head to look up at Jack’s wide, sad blue eyes.

‘It’s not your fault,’ he assured him. ‘You guys saved me. I’m glad you did, or else I’d be a goner.’

‘It’s not like we’re going to listen to them anyway,’ Cupcake said. ‘Jack told us what happened, and even if he hadn’t, we know you’re not some creeper.’

‘Thanks,’ Jamie said, smiling for the first time that day. He turned to Jack. ‘So what happened with Pitch? Have you guys figured out what’s happening?’

‘Yeah, we have,’ he explained. Baby Tooth squeaked, nodding as she settled down on his shoulder. ‘Those things that attacked you, they were Shtriga – creatures that attack children. They were sent out by someone bad, really bad - worse than Pitch.’

‘There’s something _worse_ than the bogeyman?’ Monty repeated, colour draining from his face. Pippa reached out and held onto his arm, an anchor to keep him calm. Jack nodded.

‘Yeah, and we’re in big trouble,’ he continued. ‘We have to find Mother Goose before the Winter Solstice, otherwise we’re all going to be goners.’

‘Mother Goose,’ Jamie repeated, cocking his head to the side. ‘Like Mother Goose bedtime stories?’

‘Yeah, except it’s not bed time stories she writes, it’s ours. And if we don’t have any stories for people to read, if no one knows who we are, we won’t be able to interact with the human world or help it.’

‘What do you mean?’

Jack shrugged. ‘First we’d all become invisible, no one would be able to see us because there’s no belief. Then we wouldn’t be able to influence or act in the human world – I don’t think I’d be able to bring snow to you guys anymore. The Fae would be barred from entering this realm from the faerie realm, like you hear in old stories. Then... then Rumpelstiltskin is going to come along, and he’s going to destroy the world.’

‘Like the apocalypse?’ Claude asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘End of the world, no getting out alive, kind of deal?’

‘Yeah,’ Jack said. He rubbed his forehead with one his thumb and fingertips. ‘There’s more, Rumpelstiltskin made a deal with us – we can try to find Mother Goose, and he won’t attack you guys, but we have to give up a memory every day we fail.’

‘Jack!’

He held up a hand to stem the chorus of outbursts from the young teenagers. ‘I know, I know. It’s pretty bad, but Mother Goose is a human, somewhere in the world. I need to start my search somewhere, and maybe you guys can help – keep an eye out for anyone who might fit being the new Mother Goose, or if you can think of anyone who could be the one we’re searching for.’

The kids paused, thinking hard on what he’d said. Off the top of their heads they could name all their favourite authors, but none of them really felt like Mother Goose material. They thought of writers they’d known of since they were little, and the bedtime stories their parents had read to them. None of them seemed to fit, and one by one, they shook their heads.

‘I can’t think of anyone who’d be Mother Goose,’ Pippa said glumly. Jack frowned, despondent.

‘Hey, don’t worry, Jack,’ Jamie replied, grasping his shoulder as Jack had done earlier. ‘You’ve got us helping you now. We’ll think of something.’

‘Yeah, we’ll find Mother Goose, and save the world, too!’ Caleb agreed, grinning. ‘How awesome is this Christmas going to be?’

The kids cheered up, agreeing with him, and Jack managed to smile. All they needed to do was find Mother Goose. He knew she was out there; he just had to find her.

* * *

The laptop stream droned in the background, filling the silence in the tiny apartment with reports of the mysterious lunar events and meteor showers that happened over the last few days: astronomers were guest-starring with explanations while the news anchor attempted to make puns on the subject. A suitcase sat in front of the unused television with a large backpack resting against it, holding the personal belongings of the young woman who strode around the apartment, doing final checks to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

An old, worn blue tome sat on the arm of the sofa, faded gold filigree letters claiming it to be “The Complete Collection of Hans Christian Anderson Fairy Tales”. Beneath it was a similar, large green book, its spine reading “Grimm Fairy Tales”. She picked them up as she passed the sofa, and stored them along with a purse and other necessary bits and pieces that always seemed to find a home in a large handbag.

With a small, tired sigh, she tossed the weighted bag onto the seat beside her, and flopped onto the sofa. She reached over and flipped the laptop closed, sending the apartment into silence. She leaned back and looked around at the bare walls of the space that she’d lived in for the past five years. Outside, the city carried on, never sleeping as cars and trucks drove by, their horns blaring in anger at other drivers. The city lights lit up the night sky outside her window, and no stars shone bright enough to overpower the light pollution. She leaned forward, reaching for the tickets lying on the coffee table in front of her.

Both were one way tickets, because there was no direct route back from New York City. She’d have to change over after a three hour journey, starting way earlier than she wanted it to, but she couldn't change it. By the following afternoon, she’d be right back where she’d started, all the way back in Burgess.


	10. Thin Ice

The bus hissed as it pulled up in front of the Burgess Grand Hotel, and the final passenger on the journey stepped down the stairs and hopped onto the pavement, nodding to the driver in thanks. The middle storage compartment opened with a grinding, shuddering squeal until it came to a stop, and Satu reached inside and grabbed her suitcase and backpack, heaving them out of the storage space. She set the heavy suitcase on the pavement by her feet and shrugged on the back pack, the straps trapping her scarf and handbag under them. She steadied herself under the extra weight, shrugging it into a more comfortable position on her back and twisted her handbag so it rested against her right hip.

She grabbed her case by the handle and dragged it behind her away from the bus, the hem of her leather coat flapping around her ankles in the rush of wind kicked up as the bus pulled away from the curb and wove its way back into the flow of traffic, and she watched it disappear down the road. She looked up and down the street, everything layered with fresh snow that had fallen in the night, and huffed a breath, dropping down to sit on her suitcase. She kicked her legs out in front of her till the thick, heavy heels of her boots rested on the kerb, the laces poking through the buckles and straps around them, and pulled out her phone to check for messages, and the time.

No new messages had appeared since the last time she checked, and she slid it back into her pocket, pulling her hoodie sleeves further over her hand against the chill in the air. She clasped them between her knees for extra measure, rubbing at the material of her blue skinny jeans. She looked up and down the street again, then over her shoulder at the old, worn out hotel with faded writing above the solid oak doors and cracks in the white stone walls, ivy taking root along the edges of windows and along the gutters.

Music blasted in her ears, and she used it to busy herself while she waited, creating a scene unfolding to the tempo of the song: fast paced and loud, a heavy drum beat creating a short series of bursts at the end of the bridge to create the backdrop of a quick, hectic fight scene. Picking at the black nail polish on her thumb, she bobbed her head in time to the beat, turning her gaze to the washed out grey sky overhead.

A cold, loosely packed snowball exploded across the back of her head, splattering through her long platinum hair and dripping down her neck, scattering her thoughts.

‘What the-- Hey!’ She leapt to her feet and whirled around, pulling out her earphones, ready to scold the person who had thrown it when she stopped, registering who approached her.

‘Sorry, this is strictly a “no losers” area,’ the young woman laughed, sauntering down the hotel steps towards Satu. Her russet brown skin took on a redder hue in the cold air; the tip of her nose and her high, full cheeks flushing carnelian. She pushed her mane of wild black curls out from underneath the red scarf wound around her neck and hitched her leather jacket over her dark grey turtle neck, ripped black skinny jeans exposing her bruised knees to the cold.

The cold didn’t stop her wide smile, exposing a dimple high on her cheek, a constellation of piercings decorating her face: a bar through her right eyebrow and a matching stud through her right nostril, a collection of hoops around her left ear but only two in her right. She buried her gloved hands into the pockets of her jacket as she reached the bottom of the chipped white stone steps, stopped and grinned at Satu, sizing her up and down.

Satu shook the snow from her hair, scraping her fingers through her wavy blonde hair and pushing her bandanna back from her face. She dropped her rucksack from her shoulders, setting in on top of her suitcase and folded her arms across her slim chest.

‘Then what are you doing here, loser?’ she said, matching her smile.

Darcy laughed, and Satu stretched her arms out wide as Darcy closed the gap between them and swept her up in a hug, spun her around as if she weighed nothing.

‘Aw man, I missed you!’ Darcy said to her narrow, bony shoulder when she set Satu down again, and she pulled back. ‘Sorry I’m late, my shift just ended – you weren’t waiting too long, were you?’

‘No, don’t worry,’ Satu said, walking back to pick up her rucksack again. ‘The bus was late, then it was delayed, and then it got rerouted… and then, and then, and then.’

She huffed, and cracked a grin. ‘But, I’m here! I thought you’d forgotten me, though.’

‘Ha! I could never!’ Darcy replied, grabbing the handle of the suitcase. ‘Come on, haven’t heard from you properly in months, we were almost about to send out a search and rescue. How 'bout I buy you a drink and we catch up on everything?’

‘Didn’t you just come off your shift?’ Satu asked.

‘Yeah, but I like it a lot better when I can drink. Plus, I get staff discount and we got some catching up to do.’

Satu nodded. ‘Well, it might be a long story...’

‘You always had the best ones. C'mon,’ Darcy said. She turned around and hauled the suitcase after her up the steps with ease. She jerked her head up to the door, and Satu followed her.

*

Jack balanced on the top of the fence outside Jamie’s house, walking it like a tight rope, back and forth, as he watched over the Bennett household. Every so often, a small, blonde head would pop up in the windows and Sophie would grin at him and wave before she disappeared back into the house. It had been like that since yesterday, when Jamie had snuck back in without getting caught. Jack had set up camp in the back yard in the boughs of the old tree that still held the swing set strung from one of the branches, the ropes worn and frayed after years of use. He didn't know if it had been expected that he return to the North Pole at the end of the day, but he hadn’t seen Nightlight’s shooting lights or the auroras, so he figured if they needed him they’d call on him. He had wanted to keep watch over Jamie and his friends, anyway; after the Shtriga attack the night before and the Fearlings attack on him, he had a nagging worry at the back of his mind that Rumpelstiltskin would find another loophole to exploit.

There had been nothing during the night, but Jack had stayed close, long after they had all gone to bed once their search for Mother Goose had turned up nothing. Jamie had kept his friends on a web chat, each of their faces popped up in a little square box, beginning their lengthy search on the internet: looking up bestselling authors that matched the requirements for the new Mother Goose (very few, and none of them had looked particularly promising), then going on to search for up and coming releases, sending links to each other or reading summaries of the authors out loud. Jamie had kept checking over his shoulder throughout the night, straining to hear anything that would give away the sound of his mother approaching as they had continued late into the night, long past midnight and one by one the teenagers had logged off to sleep, until, past two in the morning, Jamie had called it quits for the night.

Jack wished him goodnight and pulled the covers up over him, ruffling his hair. Jamie chuckled even as he shivered at Jack’s colder temperature before drifting off to sleep, prompting Jack to retreat to avoid giving Jamie a chill. Hopping out the window to keep guard, he had glanced back briefly at Jamie, curled up in bed with the nightlight casting multicoloured lights around the room, and felt his skin prickle at the sight of it. He carried it with him on his scouting flights across the town, causing a heavy enough snowfall in his wake to blanket the ground in a few inches of snow he had promised the kids, but it left him hollow. He returned to his lake for some time, skating over the ice and creating sparkling, curling frost patterns over the surface, and only stopped as the sun had began to rise and looked down at the darkness beneath the ice in long, still silence, before he flown back to Jamie’s backyard after that, settling into the boughs of the old tree.

Now it was the middle of the afternoon, and Jack had wandered close enough to the house earlier to hear that Jamie’s mother had work for a half day, and would be leaving soon. Jamie had already planned ahead with his friends in secret, agreeing to meet up and go over what they had found again, though by the sound of it no one had gotten anything substantial. Jack didn’t blame any of them, they were trying their hardest, and Jack couldn’t thank them enough for all their efforts. Whatever they had, it had to wait until Mrs. Bennett drove off to her work and leave Jamie in charge for the few short hours she was away. It left Jack restless, waiting for her to leave, and he had taken up walking along the fence for something to do.

Baby Tooth squeaked on his shoulder as he spun on the balls of his feet and made his way back across the tops of the narrow wooden slats. He barely registered it, brow furrowed as he stared off into space, concentrating on the nothingness in front of his eyes. He hated not doing something, had done that the first few years he had been a spirit, and again over the centuries every now and then, an empty lethargy creeping over him that had caused him to lose weeks, months... sometimes years that he couldn’t recall, except fleeting feelings of cold and dark among the emptiness.

Baby Tooth squeaked again as he turned and he blinked, snapping out of his daze and looked around the garden. Baby Tooth fluffed her feathers out to make her look bigger; glaring at the tree he had lain in during the night. Jack followed her line of sight to the shadows, where Pitch stared back at them, watching them unblinking as he leant against the trunk, arms folded across his chest casually.

Jack jumped, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Pitch smiled, his eyes glinting hungrily in the shadow of the old tree. Jack recognised the expression on his face, and squashed down any thoughts of Nightlight and the Guardians. Pitch's smile broadened, and Jack realised Pitch had gotten whatever he'd wanted from him. His surprise gave way to anger, annoyed at being caught off guard by Pitch, his suffocating presence enveloping Jack until his skin crawled.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

‘Giving up, Frost?’ he retorted, ignoring the question as he pushed himself away from the tree, approaching Jack with slow, lazy strides.

Jack glared at him, crouching on the fence so he was eye level with Pitch and threw his staff thrown over one shoulder, shifting when Pitch turned and stared at Jamie’s house. ‘What are you talking about, Pitch?’

Pitch wrinkled his nose in annoyance. ‘Rumpelstiltskin has found some loop holes in the deal, as I expected. He’s causing quite the problem for the poor souls who stumble into them.’

‘What? What happened? Is everyone alright?’ Jack demanded, his body going rigid, ready to spring up and fly to the Workshop to see for himself that everyone was safe. Baby Tooth echoed his concern, sharing a troubled look with him.

Pitch cocked an eyebrow, amused by Jack’s reaction.

‘You sound so _worried_ , Frost,’ he said, clasping his hands behind his back and approaching him. The bruises were still vivid on his skin, but he wasn't in as much pain every time he moved. His eyes were hard flecks of gold, all weariness gone from them, thanks to Sandy's impromptu nightcap of dream sand. Jack met his stare with suspicion, gritting his teeth at Pitch’s patronizing tone.

‘Of course I’m worried. I had those things chase me,’ he explained, visibly shuddering.

‘So you never thought to return to the Workshop? Everyone else did,’ Pitch added, cocking an eyebrow. Jack pulled his staff from his shoulder and Pitch sidestepped in case he had a bout of frost lightning sent his way, but Jack pointed the crook up to the house where his little last believer lived.

‘If Rumpelstiltskin found a loop hole with us, he might find a loop hole with the kids,’ Jack explained. His lips quirked at the corner, his bright eyes telling Pitch he noticed his defensiveness. Pitch scowled at him as Jack rested his staff over his shoulder again. ‘I didn’t mean to worry anyone.’

‘You didn’t,’ Pitch said, dismissing him with a flick of his hand. He hid his smirk when he saw Jack’s face go slack, his jaw dropping and eyes widening.

‘I... what... what do you...’ he trailed off, his breath hitching in his chest and he couldn’t inhale. His fears exploded in a spectrum of colours in front of Pitch’s eyes, caused a spider web of different lines of thinking, like coloured string. He wobbled on the fence, unbalanced, gripping it with one hand to keep himself on it.

‘What do I mean, Frost?’ Pitch asked, stalking towards him. ‘I mean no one thought to wonder where you were, no one questioned it, thought twice about it or even mentioned it. I guess you’re still invisible, hmm?’

He strode forward as Jack went slack, leaning away from him on instinct, unbalanced. He toppled off the fence, scrambling for grip and Baby Tooth jumped into the air, hovering above him and squeaking in panic. He landed with a thump on his hands and knees, his staff sinking into the snow beside him. Pitch leaned his arms on the top of the fence and rested his cheek on his fist as he stared at Jack kneeling in his shadow, crowded and suffocated in his presence. Baby Tooth flew around his head, caught between begging him to answer her and squeaking angrily at Pitch.

Jack didn't really hear her tirade against Pitch, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the Snow Queen’s words returned to him like a punch in the gut, bringing a bout of tingling shivers that turned his skin cold with needle pricks. He huffed a breath, tried to regulate his breathing as his head swam, nausea rolling in close behind the light-headedness. He clawed at the material of his hoodie, fighting for breaths as he pushed himself up on his feet and grabbing his staff in trembling hands for support. He pressed his forehead against the crook as he tried to compose himself. Pitch was lying, he was just trying to upset Jack. But, if that were true, why hadn’t he heard anything? Why hadn’t Bunny jumped out at him with yetis and a sack in tow, why hadn’t North sent out the auroras? He swallowed, felt like Pitch had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, a foreign cold seeping through him.

He didn’t see Pitch’s eyes narrow, his gleeful look replaced with one of confusion and suspicion. Jack wiped his face with the cuff of his sleeve, shaking his head as he leaned on his staff. His eyes opened to see Pitch staring at him, and he sighed. ‘What?’

‘It seems you had quite the day, yesterday, between my Fearlings and the children,’ Pitch said.

‘They’re not your Fearlings, any more,’ Jack said, glaring at Pitch. He wanted to hurt Pitch the same way he hurt Jack with his words. He wanted to be cruel. Pitch tensed in anger, his features contorting into a vicious sneer. Jack continued, emboldened. ‘You’re not their master any more, you don’t lead their army: you’re not the big bad we have to fight. You’re just a shadow of the bogeyman, and you don’t scare me.’

‘I may be a shadow of what I once was, but maybe you can tell me what it’s like being a shadow of someone _else_ ,’ Pitch snapped. Jack reeled back, lips pressed tight together as he glared at Pitch. Pitch leaned forward, curling his hands around the top of the fence, the edges of the planks digging into his palms and etching their lines into his skin.

‘You see Jack,’ he said silkily. ‘All I need is time and one opportune moment, and I can rise to power again, I can return to what I once was. You on the other hand, can live a thousand years more and _never_ be able to stand in the place of Nightlight in the Guardians eyes. You will never become anything else than what you are.’

He chuckled, a smile curling at the corner of his lips as he pushed himself upright, off the fence and gestured between them. ‘You're stuck, like me. The world – both ours and the human’s – see us as they see us, and nothing will change their minds.’

Jack gritted his teeth, blinking back tears. Baby Tooth landed on Jack’s shoulder and puffed out her feathers angrily, shaking her head in denial.

‘You know what, Pitch? Get lost,’ Jack said, his voice strained as he tried to keep it even. ‘You weren’t meant to go anywhere without one of the Guardians, anyway.’

‘And here I have one in front of me,’ Pitch replied. Jack shook his head.

‘Not for long,’ he said, and hopped into the air, shooting for the sky and flying away. He’d explain to Jamie when he saw him. He hoped he understood.

*

‘I’ll be back around six,’ his mother said, wrapping a scarf around her neck and picking up her car keys. Jamie and Sophie hovered, sitting on the fourth and the sixth stair respectively as they watched her get ready. Jamie hoped they looked bored, so she wouldn’t suspect that they’d be sneaking off soon after she left. Well, Jamie would be sneaking away, Sophie had the freedom to come and go as she pleased as long as she had someone with her. He wondered since he was the only one available to accompany her, would that make her his accomplice for sneaking outside? Most likely, with the mood his mother had for the time being.

She turned to him, and he had the sudden jolt of worry that she knew what he was thinking and that his plans were ruined. Instead, she just said: ‘You’re still grounded, but I don’t want you using that as an excuse to ignore or be mean to your sister.’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ he snapped before he could stop himself. The worry subsided and anger boiled up in its place, glaring at his mother. As if he would take out his anger on Sophie, the only one who believed him.

‘Don’t take that tone with me, Jamie,’ she snapped back. ‘You’re on thin ice as it is. I don’t want to come home and you’ve ended up in more trouble.’

‘Yeah, fine,’ he said, knowing he sounded petulant but he didn’t want to get into another one sided argument. It would be best that his mom just left and they could get on with their plan without her being any wiser about it. His phone lay up in his room, on silent so any texts or calls couldn’t be heard by her. He almost felt guilty about going behind her back, but he knew it was the only way to get anything done.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, rubbing her forehead. Jamie thought she would start shouting at him again, but she didn’t.

‘I’ll be home later,’ she repeated. ‘Be good.’

Abby looked up from her bed by the front door as she left, and yawned before curling up and drifting off to sleep again. Greyhounds: the forty-mile-per-hour couch potato.

Jamie waited till he heard the car start, the rumble of the engine fading as it pulled out of the drive, and turned, dashing up the stairs back to his room.

Sophie darted after him, clutching her rabbit toy to her chest as they entered his room. She jumped onto his bed and kicked her legs out, bouncing her heels off the bed frame as Jamie grabbed his phone from his bedside stand, checking for messages or calls. His brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at the little screen, scrolling through the messages there. He had missed calls from all five of them, texts and voicemails all from the last ten minutes. He clicked on one of the voicemails to listen to it when his phone buzzed in his hand, and he jumped, answering it and pressing the cool plastic against his ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Jamie, dude, forget the park,’ Claude said from the other side of the line. His voice crackled and he sounded out of breath. ‘Get to the hospital, we’ll meet you there.’

‘The hospital?’ Jamie repeated, thinking he’d misheard. Sophie looked up at the mention of it, biting the paw of her rabbit toy. Jack said the kids were safe from attack, that the Shtriga and the Fearlings wouldn’t hurt them. He hadn’t mentioned there being another incident last night, did he know?

‘Why? What’s happened?’ Jamie asked.

‘I dunno, it’s, like, mass hospitalisation,’ Claude explained. As if to prove his point, the distinct wailing of an ambulance filtered through the phone as it sped down the street. ‘Jeez... Jamie, something weird is happening.’

‘You think it’s the Shtriga?’ Jamie asked.

‘I dunno,’ Claude replied. ‘Jack said they’d been called off, didn't he? And he was here all night.’

‘Yeah, he’s still outside,’ Jamie said. ‘You think they could’ve slipped past him somehow?’

‘Maybe, but it might not even _be_ them,’ Claude said, worry creeping into his tone. ‘Think about it, what if Rumpelstiltskin’s got something else up his sleeve? You’ve got a whole book shelf of all things weird and nasty, you can’t tell me Shtriga are the only things that are out there.’

Jamie didn’t answer, sitting next to Sophie and holding his head in his hand. He knew what he had on his bookcase; an encyclopaedia of all the myths and superstitions from around the world among the large tomes. He also knew if even a dozen of those things were real, they were all in trouble. ‘You sure there’s not just been a massive car crash or something?’

‘Jamie, gimme some credit,’ Claude replied. ‘There were three on my street and another two on Pippa’s. They’re all over the place.’

‘Just trying to be hopeful.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s not gonna change anything any time soon,’ he replied.

Jamie didn’t answer as he tried to process the information, running his fingers through his hair and scratching his head as he tried to figure out an explanation. Jack had warned them of the deal maker and the loop holes that he could find. If the children were still in danger, they’d have to find out what they were up against, no matter how bad it was.

‘Burgess General?’ he asked, and Claude confirmed it. ‘We’ll catch up; wait for us in the cafe.’

He ended the call and jumped off the bed, shoving the phone into his jean pockets.

‘Sophie, go get ready,’ he said. Sophie didn’t question him, running through to her room to get dressed in case Jamie decided to ditch her. He turned and scrambled up to his window, opening it wide and leaning out over the ledge in search for the tell-tale white hair and blue hoodie out in the garden. His whole back yard was empty.

‘Jack?’ he yelled, looking for him. Jack had gone without a trace, not even footprints in the snow to tell him which way he had headed.

Jamie hissed out a breath, biting his lip as he considered his options, indecisive. They didn’t have time to wait and see if he’d gone away on official Guardian business and would be back, or if he had also heard about the onslaught of medical attention needed around Burgess and had headed to the hospital ahead of them. He didn’t want to run off without Jack and leave him out of the loop, when he was the only one who would be able to tell them if this was the work of some bad spirit and would be able to protect them. He didn’t want to face his mother’s wrath if she caught him, either, and put him under complete house arrest.

He made a quick decision, closing his window and began pulling on extra layers for warmth against the sudden cold snap that Jack had brought their way. With the limited time they had before their mother returned, he couldn’t wait and risk getting caught. He’d explain to Jack later: hopefully he’d have gone ahead to the hospital, if not, they didn’t have a way to track him down unless Jack found them. He’d have to risk it.

‘Sophie, hurry up.’

*

‘So, what’s the plan now?’ Darcy asked, chewing on her straw as she leaned back in her chair, resting one arm across the back of it and kicking one leg over the other, the leather boot creaking as she flexed her foot.

‘I don’t know.’ Satu shrugged and rested her elbows on the table, leaning her weight on them and ran a finger between her choker and her silver necklace, untangling them from each other. She twirled the multiple rings around her fingers on each hand with her thumbs as she looked around the restaurant. ‘I’ve not quite thought that far ahead.'

Despite the tired exterior of the hotel, it still retained an obvious elegance inside, with the whole ground floor housing two large halls that were always booked for some celebration or another and the combined bar-restaurant they were currently sat it, just beyond reception. They sat by the windows near the back, the midnight blue drapes pulled back and secured with thick gold rope so they could see into the gardens behind the hotel, and Satu fixed her gaze on them. They were beautiful and well maintained in the warmer months, with wandering gravel paths and a wide, raised patio used for an outdoor dining area. Tall, gnarled old trees stood like silent guards all along the high wall that closed the gardens off from the rest of the world. Winter had stripped all the foliage away, the flowerbeds bare of colour, the flowers waiting for the thaw of spring to awaken and bloom.

She hadn’t had time to think far past getting back to Burgess, tying up loose ends and packing until the last possible moment back in New York. Her previous job at a small publishing firm had gone bust after two years of working there, and she’d just barely gotten her final full pay. It had lasted her one final month: one final month of desperately trying to find a new job, cutting back on how much she spent on food, on bills, everything, hoping she could stretch it to last a little longer. She couldn’t, and then she realised she couldn’t even stretch it to getting herself and all her stuff home, selling everything off that she didn’t need. The only exceptions she allowed herself were her art supplies, which she couldn’t sell or throw away half used, her old books of fairy tales, and her leather coat, and some jewellery.

‘Ooh, bad plan,’ Darcy replied. She rolled her eyebrow bar between the tips of her thumb and forefinger, her nails painted black.

‘Yeah, I know,' she agreed with a grimace. She wasn’t like Darcy, who rolled with the punches and came back up fighting. She didn’t always have a backup plan or a quick escape: that had been Darcy's area of expertise. ‘I’ve got a job in the mail room at the Burgess Post, but it’s time share, and only temporary for someone’s maternity leave.’

‘Oh, god, your mind is gonna turn to mush there.’ Darcy wrinkled her nose, the stud catching the light as she chewed on the straw between her teeth. Finally, she stopped twisting her eyebrow bar and pulled the straw from between her teeth, a smile on her face. ‘New plan!’

Satu cocked one thin, pale eyebrow questioningly.

‘Come work with me, here!' Darcy said, rapping her hands against the table.

‘I didn’t know you guys were hiring.’

‘Eh,’ Darcy said, tipping her hand back and forth and pulling a face. She twisted in her seat to look over her shoulder at the only bartender working in the quiet lull between lunch and the evening rush. ‘Yo, Oli!'

Oliver looked up from stacking glasses in the dishwasher behind the bar, raising his eyebrows as he straightened and leaned on the bar counter. He was tall and broad shouldered, the black t-shirt he wore contouring to his wide chest, with light tawny gold skin and dark brown hair cut short around an angular face. An easy, crooked smile pulled at his thin lips as he rested his chin in his hand, watching Darcy with rounded, dark eyes. Satu tried to figure out how she recognised him. ‘Let me guess, more unreasonable demands?’

Darcy huffed in mock indignation, crossing her arms over the back of her chair and pouted. Oliver just smiled wider.

‘My demands are never unreasonable,’ Darcy argued, turning her nose up in the air, before cracking one eye open and looking back at him.

‘Holy, shit -- Oliver?!’ Satu leaned forward, grinning as she finally placed him in her memories. They had known Oliver in high school, even though they hadn’t hung out often given their age difference: he had been one of those people in high school that seemed to be friends with everyone. He wore loops of braided red string around his wrist, and when he wasn’t doing anything, he’d lace it around his fingers and create patterns with it. He’d graduated a few years before them, but it had only been when Satu had left for university he had left as well, claiming he wanted to go over to China, where his mother had been born.

‘You’re back,’ she said. Oliver's gaze finally turned towards her, and he grinned, winking.

‘So are you,’ he replied, running a finger between his bracelets and his wrist.

Satu looked away, blushing, before she shrugged, laughing it off. ‘In the flesh! Of course.’

‘You still writing faerie tales, then, Faerie Tale?’ Oliver asked, folding his arms on the bar and leaning on them.

‘Uhhh, kind of on a break,’ Satu said, jabbing her thumb at her baggage – her literal stuff, anyway – and scratched her ear, a large gold hoop hanging from it. She didn’t have as many visible decorations as Darcy did; a single hoop through her right ear and a mismatching stud through her left. She preferred ink while Darcy preferred steel, each etching their stories onto their skin. ‘Writers block, and all that stuff, you know?’

‘Ah, the ultimate evil of all writers,’ he said, nodding sagely. ‘Manage to salvage any best sellers from the battle?’

Satu pulled a face. ‘I’d actually need to finish something first.’

‘Hey, _hello_ ~ focus, people, I am trying to make a plan. You know those extra hours I asked for?’ Darcy asked, drawing both their attentions back to her with a wave of her hand.

‘You about to tell me you want more?’ Oliver asked, scratching the narrow bridge of his nose.

‘Nah,’ Darcy said. She shook her head and straightened, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to point at Satu. ‘I’m gonna ask you to give ‘em to her.’

‘Woah, hold on! Darce!’ Satu exclaimed, sitting up straight. ‘You--’

‘She comes highly recommended,’ Darcy continued loudly over Satu.

‘By you,’ Oliver said. Darcy smiled sweetly.

‘That’s because my recommendation is the only one that matters.’ She started ticking off points on her fingers. ‘Hard working, good time management, very particular about details, previous experience – remember when we all worked here our last year of high school?’

‘I’d rather not,’ Oliver teased.

‘And she can definitely pull her own weight... Not much else with those noodly arms of hers, but hey, what’re you gonna do?’ Darcy finished.

Satu kicked her under the table playfully, and Darcy grinned over her shoulder, winking at her. It had been a running joke for the longest time that a strong breeze could carry Satu away with her slim, lean frame and long wiry limbs while Darcy’s curvaceous figure hid solid muscle underneath, built up over the years of working part time in the garage or training at the kick-boxing class that ran twice a week in town.

‘Come on, Oli,’ she said. ‘Our knight in shining armour - help out a damsel in distress?’

‘You are not a damsel in distress,’ he replied, jabbing his finger at her. Darcy raised her eyebrows, her shoulders rolling up in an exaggerated shrug.

‘Our resident Fairy Tale is, though,’ she said, tipping her head back towards Satu. ‘Come on, Oli, have a heart!’

‘How about I fire you and hire her?’ Oliver teased, stacking glasses again. Darcy gasped, clapping her hands over her cheeks in mock horror. She stuck her tongue out at him in good humour so the metal stud through it flashed under the light before it disappeared behind a wide smile.

‘Asshole!’ she laughed. ‘You evil, evil asshole!’

Oliver raised his hands in surrender. ‘I thought I was the knight in shining armour who’s giving her your extra hours?’

They both perked up, and Darcy clapped her hands in delight.

‘Really? Oliver, you’re the best!’

‘On one condition, though,’ he added. Satu cocked her head to the side, Darcy narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Oliver smiled innocently. ‘You guys work the wedding that’s booked for later this month.’

‘Ugh,’ Darcy groaned, thumping her head against the back of her chair with a sharp crack and letting her body go limp, playing dead. Across the restaurant, Oliver laughed quietly. Darcy looked up, resting her chin on the back of the chair. ‘Asshole! I thought you liked weddings?’

‘I do, when I’m actually attending them and can therefore, drink and be merry and not worry about the clean up afterwards,’ he explained, grinning.

Darcy groaned again, thumping her head against her chair. She huffed, and raised her head from the back of the chair and leaned on one elbow, propping her cheek up on her closed fist and mock-glared at Oliver through the stray curls of hair that fell across her forehead. ‘You got yourself a deal, Oli, but you’re still evil.’

Oliver grinned, wide eyed and innocent. Darcy wrinkled her nose at him, shaking her head her till her hair bounced.

'Man, how could you?' she asked. ‘Throwing Satu into the deep end, asking her to do the wedding as well.’

‘Plot twist,’ he joked.

'Ha ha.' Darcy waved him off, shaking her head again and turned to Satu, pushing her hair out of her face and doing jazz hands. ‘Ta-da!’

Satu smiled. ‘You didn’t have to do that for me, Darcy.’

Darcy shrugged, folding her arms across the table. ‘Too late, I did it.’

‘Darcy-’

‘Just admit defeat and let me help you,’ Darcy cut her off, unfolding her arms and hooking one arm over the back of her chair. ‘You’d run yourself into the ground just to prove you could do it on your own, but I'm easily bored so just skip the “I’m an adult, I should be standing on my own two feet” straight to the “Oh, Darcy! You’re so amazing and wonderful, everyone should have a friend like you”?’

Satu rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same, reaching over the table and grasping Darcy’s hand. ‘Thanks, Darce. You're amazing.’

She frowned. ‘But, seriously, didn’t you need those extra hours, for, I don't know, money?’

‘That is the second part of my plan, because I am amazing,’ Darcy said, holding up one finger. ‘My sofa bed is lonely and it needs love. Help me out?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake! Darcy!’ Satu laughed even as her eyes welled with tears and she buried her face in her scarf, holding it to her face as she tried not to cry. The fear and panic she didn’t realise she had been carrying around for weeks washed away, leaving overwhelming relief that she couldn't control or contain. She heard Darcy drag her chair around the table and she looped her arms around Satu’s shoulders. Satu leaned into her, keeping her face covered as tears marked her scarf, trying not to ugly cry.

‘You’re not supposed to make her cry!’ Oliver called over to them. Darcy blew a raspberry at him and hugged Satu tighter.

‘God, I was just going to get a room at a hostel,’ Satu said. ‘I thought you were still renting your place?’

‘I am, but we can fake-date so the landlord doesn’t get pissy and accuse me of subletting or something,’ Darcy said jokingly.

Satu giggled, straightening in her seat and sniffling, pressing the heels of her hand to her eyes to stop crying. ‘Wouldn’t that mean we share a bed, if we’re fake dating?’

‘Hell no, I’m not giving up my bed for anything.’

They both giggled. Satu nodded, clasping her hands behind her neck. ‘Thanks, Darcy.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Darcy shrugged. ‘It’ll be cheaper on both of us now if we split the rent, food, and bills. Plus, I still have work down at the garage, I can get extra shifts there if need be, or take over some of the kickboxing classes for some extra cash. Come on, it'll be fun, like old times. So, how 'bout we get you home and unpacked? We can catch up with Sonja too.’

‘Ah, yeah.’ Satu winced, Sonja's face appearing in the forefront of her mind. Darcy cocked her pierced brow, a knowing look on her face.

‘Yeah, you didn’t think you’d avoid her, did you?’ she asked. ‘Or were you planning on spinning one of your stories? She probably already knows you’re back.’

Satu made a face, unable to deny that she would have made up something to pacify their foster mother and try to stop her worrying, even if it wouldn’t have worked; Sonja – more commonly known as Grandma Burgess around town – had a knack for knowing everything. She also had a knack for having all the answers if you wanted them, and if not, she had time to listen over a cup of tea and a stock of homemade cookies.

Darcy clapped her on the back and stood up, grabbing her jacket and shrugging it onto her shoulders, pushing her hair out from under the collar and wrapping her scarf around her neck. She looped her handbag over her head so the strap cut across her torso, and nodded towards the door.

‘Come on, then,’ she said, grabbing Satu’s suitcase and headed towards the exit without waiting.

Satu grabbed her backpack and handbag, pulling her coat on and quickly checked her reflection in the window. Green eyes rimmed red stared back at her from a pale oval face, the tell-tale sheen of shed tears highlighting the ring of amber-gold around the pupil. She wiped the tracks off her face and darted after Darcy, catching up as she plucked a handful of papers out of Oliver’s hand, waving them above her head like a victory flag.

‘Thanks, Oliver,’ Satu said, smiling at him. He nodded to her in reply, giving her a lazy salute before he returned to cleaning the bar.

Outside the hotel, she fell into step with Darcy, looping an arm around her waist as they walked down the street.  ‘Thank you, Darcy.’

‘Ah, quit saying that,’ Darcy replied, throwing her free arm over her shoulders. ‘It’s not like I gave you a kidney.’

‘You might as well have,’ Satu said. Darcy pulled a face.

‘Nah, I draw the line at vital organs. I will give you half my hours, half my apartment, half my food and even half my wardrobe if you want, but no way, no how am I giving you- woah! Oh!’

She startled to a stop the same time Satu did, their laughter cut short. They shivered in unison, a chill creeping up their spines and over their shoulders, trailing down their arms to their fingertips even with their scarves and thick leather coats. The feeling disappeared as fast as it had come upon them, but Satu still shuddered again, trying to shake the feeling.

‘Well, that was weird,’ Darcy said, rolling her shoulders. ‘Someone walked over our graves?’

‘Or we walked through a ghost,’ Satu replied. ‘Neither sounds particularly appealing.’

‘Nope, come on, let’s get away from the ghosts, then, in case they want our vital organs,’ Darcy said. Satu laughed as they fell back into step and continued down the street.

* 

Jack felt Pitch following him, darting between the shadows like the Fearlings that had attacked him. He barrelled down the street, avoiding people so he wouldn't phase through them. He hoped that the constant risk would force Pitch back, knowing he hated the twisting pain of being invisible to the major population, but Pitch still followed him, watching him, getting under his skin. He banked left and right, weaving down the street and around the sparse crowd who ventured out into the cold, and still Pitch followed him. Jack’s irritation grew, unable to catch sight of Pitch as he slipped through the shadows, nothing more than a prickling on the back of Jack’s neck, telling him he was being watched.

_No one worried, no one cared. The Guardians would never see him past Nightlight._

The thoughts went round and round in his head, like a twisted, warped nursery rhyme on repeat, growing louder. He blinked back tears, shaking his head as he sped down the street, kicking up loose, powdered snow in his wake and leaving trails of ice along pavements and walls. Pitch lied; he always lied, tried to rile Jack up, tried to put a wedge between him and the Guardians. He just wanted to scare Jack, because he couldn’t get to the kids and it was Jack’s fault, laughing in the face of fear five years ago.

A final turn left and Jack spun in the air, spinning his Shepherd’s crook around him and sending out a wave of ice and frost. Pitch cursed, jumping from the shadows as jagged ice particles slammed into the darkness, bursts of spiralling frost unfurling on the shadowed walls of buildings. Pitch landed on his feet, defensive except for the smirk that curled at the corners of his mouth, mocking Jack. Swirls of black send looped and shifted between his fingers and Onyx leapt from her hiding place, trotting around Pitch as Jack landed in front of him, patience worn thin and exhaustion creeping through his body.

‘Would you leave me _alone_?’ he demanded, sending a jet of crackling white frost lightening at Pitch. Pitch ducked out of the way, but did not retaliate, laughing.

‘Careful Jack, remember the last time you asked that of me?’ Pitch said. Jack flinched, before his expression hardened into a fierce scowl. Baby Tooth squeaked at the implied threat and dived into the confines of Jack’s hoodie. Safe, she poked her head out of the material and blew a raspberry at Pitch. Jack patted her head down, pushing her back out of sight.

‘You hurt her, Pitch and I’ll-’ Jack threatened, raising his staff, but Pitch cut him off with a swipe of his hand cutting through the air.

‘You’ll what? What will you do, Jack?’ Pitch scoffed. ‘Disrupt the balance of the world even more by getting rid of me? I’m sure you’ll get high praise from your _precious_ Guardians for that. You’d be the one to defeat the bogeyman for good, not even Nightlight can claim that title. No, he just _sacrificed_ himself for thousands of years, trapped in the dark with me, his little flickering light repelling the shadows that would consume him too. Even when he returned, he returned a hero. How will you return, if you get rid of me and send the world into its final downward spiral to destruction?’

‘Shut up, Pitch!’ Jack snarled, slamming the butt of the staff to the concrete in frustration and sending a burst of ice across the cold stone. Pitch backed away from the expanding circle of ice around Jack’s feet, careful not to slip.

Jack covered his eyes with his hand, scrubbing his fingers through his hair before he raised his glare to level with Pitch’s stare. Pitch raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.

‘You won’t return,’ he said. ‘You’ll be hated. You’ll be cast out. You’ll be a pariah. Everyone you have ever cared about will turn their back on you, and oh, what hypocrites they’d be.’

His mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he advanced on Jack. ‘They’d banish you, punish you; do whatever they thought would be fitting for killing me. For doing the one thing _everyone_ wishes they had the courage to themselves. They'll never understand the likes of us, for doing what we want.’

'"The likes of _us_ "? There's no " _us_ " and "them".' Jack shook his head, tried to clear his mind as his fears overwhelmed him, scattering his thoughts and destabilising him.  The adrenaline coursed through him with every thunder clap of his heartbeat, it screamed at him to fight or fly, fight or fly, fight, fight, _fight_. Images of the Guardians and Nightlight and the Snow Queen and Pitch collided with each other, unable to form a coherent thought in the mess. ‘I’m not-’

He stopped short as thousands of pins and needles stabbed his skin. He gasped, curling over himself, his skin flaring. Pitch clutched at his robe with hooked fingers with a strained cry, a look of pained shock replacing the smugness on his sharp, aquiline features. Behind them, two women shivered, as if overcome with a chill.

‘Someone walked over our graves,’ the dark skinned woman said, grimacing.

‘Or we walked through ghosts,’ the fair one replied, shivering again as they continued down the street, unaware of the spirits gasping for breath as they tried to compose themselves. Jack straightened and he took a deep breath, his hand splayed across his chest as the ache eased to a dull discomfort. Light, lazy flakes of snow began to flutter down from the overcast sky.

‘You’re right, Pitch,’ he said, his eyes watering. ‘Guess we’re not that different.’

Pitch glared at him with pure venom, but Jack didn’t care. He leapt into the air, leaving Pitch seething outside a grand, white stone hotel alone. He needed to get back to Jamie and the kids; he had left them without explaining where he was going or why he left. He tried to push all other thoughts out of his mind – Pitch’s taunts and the Snow Queen’s warnings of the Guardians and Nightlight.

It didn’t work, but he tried.

* * *

‘Well, that didn’t work,’ Pippa sighed as they exited the hospital. She looked up at the overcast sky, wrinkling her nose as snowflakes trailed paths through the air to the ground, getting caught on her hat or coat or in her hair. The waiting room had been packed, and they couldn’t get any information on the patients that had come in if they weren’t family, so it had come to a dead end.

‘I still think it’s weird,’ Caleb said, adjusting his hat. ‘I mean, how many adults just drop like that at the same time?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jamie said, distracted. He frowned in thought, looking up at the sky with Pippa. If Jack had been here, he could’ve snuck through the wards and seen what had happened to the adults. They didn’t know how or where to find him though, stuck in limbo of what to do. He checked the time on his phone screen, and tried to figure out how far he could push his luck before he had to be home and pretend he hadn’t broke his grounding. He looked up, about to suggest heading to the park in case Jack would be there when something cold, wet and half-formed splattered against the back of his head, making him stumble.

Cupcake and Monty caught him, and when he righted himself, he reached behind his head and brushed the half-snow, half-slush mess from his hair. They all turned towards the sound of derisive laughter, and saw Terry and his friends some feet away. A few were on bikes, or holding skateboards, but most of them were just on foot.

‘Hey freaks,’ Terry sneered. ‘Peered in any more windows, yet?’

‘Why don’t you guys just get lost and leave us alone?’ Pippa demanded, scowling at them.

‘You need your girlfriend to protect you?’ one of the older ones called. One threw an empty bottle at them, and it overshot them by several feet. They didn’t flinch, glaring at the older teenagers. Cupcake guided Sophie to stand behind her, and Sophie clung to her.

‘He’s _not_ my boyfriend!’ Pippa yelled, her voice going higher as a blush spread across her cheeks.

‘You want to come with us, then?’ Terry jeered.

‘Hey! Leave her alone!’ Jamie snapped, and the boys lost their smirks, turning their attention to him.

‘What’s your problem, then?’ Terry demanded, trying to sound threatening. He took a step towards them when a snowball smacked him in the face, and the two groups of teens stared in shock at the slush dripping down his face. He scrubbed it off with a snarl, and they all turned to look at Claude, who wore a look of bored disgust on his face. He shrugged, pulling a face.

‘He was bugging me,’ he said.

‘You threw that?’ Terry demanded, rubbing his face.

‘Nah dude, Santa Claus did.’

‘Nutcase,’ one of the bike riders spat, and Claude shrugged again.

‘Nutcases stick together, Ned,’ he warned, glaring at the boy who had on more than one occasion ended up getting a face full of Claude’s fists and long afternoons sharing detention with him in stony silence. ‘Try to remember that when you’re taking on one of us.’

‘Alright, then.’

 

The teenagers bolted through the trees, ducking the assault of ice missiles and densely packed snowballs aimed at their heads. Claude, despite holding his nerve against the boys, had forgotten they were on bikes and had the advantage to catch up to them to fight. They were outnumbered and had Sophie to protect, but they had managed to serpentine their way through the streets to the park, taking narrow shortcuts and sharp turns to avoid them.

Closing in on Jack’s lake, they hoped to find him there. They scrambled down the hill, kicking up snow and the dead leaves lying underneath as they tried to maintain a foothold. They heard the whizz of tyres as the bullies began to catch up to them, stones and empty cans and snowballs clattering and smashing into the bark of trees, bouncing on the ground as they missed their targets.

Cupcake ran with Sophie riding piggy-back, jumping over a log when a bike crashed through the underbrush, flying ahead of her and skidding to a stop in her path. Cupcake snorted and kept running, barrelling straight into the rider and knocked him flying. She lost her own footing, falling to her knees and sliding down the hill until she grabbed a low hanging branch, pulling herself up right and kept running. Claude and Caleb kept close by on her right, grabbing anything they could get their hands on and chucking it back at the group of boys chasing them. Pippa and Monty were on her left, just up ahead with Jamie trailing behind them when they were suddenly surrounded by the older boys, chasing after them and reaching to grab them.

Jamie tried to duck out of the way and failed to see the curving root protruding from the snow and catching his foot on it and got sent sprawling across the ground. The momentum carried him down the hill, catching Pippa and Monty and pulling them into a heap that slid and skidded down the hill till they came to the bottom, stumbling to their feet and towards the lake.

There was no sign of Jack.

Cupcake and the twins dashed towards the three of them, regrouping just as one of the bike riders peddled right into them. He caught Jamie in the chest with his shoulder, clipping Pippa and Monty in the ankle and knee respectively and sending Jamie stumbling back even further—

\-- and slid onto the ice on the lake,  scrambling for purchase as he slipped further out onto the frozen lake, falling to his knees when he couldn’t keep himself upright. His friends shouted in panic while Terry and his group laughed.

‘ _Jamie_!’

‘Jump in, weirdo!’

Jamie paid no attention to the raised voices on the shore, his friends and sister stuck there with Terry and his group of bullies. They couldn’t drown out the breaking ice as cracks spider webbed out from under his feet, or the pounding of his heart as it roared in his ears, jumping up his throat to choke him. He looked up to the shore as everyone squared off against each other. Everyone shouted to him, heckles to jump in from Terry’s group, pleas to lay flat and get off the ice from his friends. It filled his ears as white noise over the cracking of the thin ice, and he covered his ears with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Taking a deep breath, he  _screamed_.

‘ _JACK_!’


	11. As Luck Would Have It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As luck would have it, there's someone close by to help you.

Pitch seethed, stalking through the labyrinthine alleyways and narrow lanes of the suburbs skirting the edges of town, full of blind alleys and shadows. Their claustrophobic closeness reminded him of his abandoned lair, which just added to his black mood. He walked without much thought and risked jumping through the shadows, knowing he didn't control what hid in them any more, every time he encountered a dead end to continue his wandering down a new path. The shadows that hid between the gaps of sunlight filtering down the narrow corridor tiger striped the ground and walls against the soft yellow glow of afternoon sun, not that he could appreciate the beauty of the day. His world was a bland monochromatic palette, humans and spirits alike appearing as dull grey shadows of themselves, only their eyes coloured like the rainbow spectrum of fears that hovered around them like a cloud.

He kept walking without a destination in mind, furious at himself and Jack Frost and the Guardians who had dragged him to and fro between themselves, who were now likely searching for him.

It hadn’t taken much to slip away from Sandy, when he'd fallen asleep on their search through dreams, right there on his fluffy golden cloud of dream sand in front of Pitch, as if he wasn't a threat. He had been tempted to bury a shadow dagger through the little man’s heart and corrupt him to teach him a lesson but had stayed his hand, knowing the wrath of the Guardians and the world of spirits as a whole would be brought down upon him. In his weakened state, the outcome would be unfavourable for him; instead, he had rode away on Onyx, his last nightmare, to... what? He hadn’t had a destination or a plan as to what he would do when he left: he couldn’t return to his lair lest the Fearlings, shedding their nightmare skin, were lying in wait for him to finish the deal that Rumpelstiltskin had wrangled from him.

_Over my dead body._

He scowled at his own stupidity, letting his army be taken from him and leaving him weak. Fearlings had always shared his body, clawing at the back of his mind with incessant whispers demanding control and freedom. Even after he acquired the ability to corrupt dream sand and create the empty husks of the Nightmares to house the Fearlings so they might roam further, he had remained with an overcrowded body full of darkness.

Now silence filled the void in his mind, an abyss that stretched out on all sides for eternity; thoughts that were all his own forming without any interruption as they tried to fill up the quiet in his head. He needed to fill up so much of himself where the Fearlings had deserted, like a storybook that had all but a few pages ripped out and he needed to rewrite it with the tattered remains.

He didn’t know how. There wasn’t enough of him left to fill up the gaps they’d left behind, even though he had always been himself. When they had filled his mind, he had sent them out into the world to spread darkness and fear, commanding and controlling them until they had turned on him, twice now. As much as he pushed at Jack’s fear, Jack had a knack for playing the same game without realising it and the two women walking through him had cemented the unsettled feeling he had been carrying deep in his gut for some time now.

When he looked at himself now, he looked at a stranger; unable to reconcile the image he saw with the image of himself he had five years ago. A shadow of his former self, he had only a dozen Fearlings – the runts of the litter, the slow, and the weak - still loyal to him. Except he’d sent all of them into Tooth’s palace under the guise of protecting her, all of them except Onyx, who resided at the back of his mind, quiescent in the empty abyss.

He halted, pressing his palm flat against the rough stone of the wall beside him, the grain scratching at the pads of his fingers. He didn’t need the support, but the tangibility of it comforted him after being walked through by the two women. It gave him a focus, ignoring the vast spaces in him, where nothing dwelled. He needed his Fearlings back, their constant presence pushing at the barriers of his mind, sharing their energy and strength with him as they each feasted on the fear presented to them from this world.

His gaze flicked up: a sudden, weak ripple in the air around him pulled at his attention, and he cocked his head, trying to decipher its origins as he looked around the alleyway. He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips and side eyed the wall he had his hand pressed. With a snap of his wrist, his hand sank through the wall like it was made of air, and he wrapped his fingers around something long and solid, yanking it out of the shadow and drawing it up till it was eye-to-eye with him.

A lizard-like creature of pure darkness wriggled in his grasp, its large round mouth gaping wide as his fingers closed around its windpipe. It was half his size, and as thick as his arm at its widest point but it had a mouthful of teeth and hooks for claws that it dug into his skin where it could reach, beads of bright red blood welling from the pinpricks in his flesh. Its long tail, which made up more than half its length, wrapped around his arm, squeezing tight enough to break the bones of an ordinary man. He gritted his teeth, hissing at it till its squirming subsided and its chameleon eyes roved around to look at him in a silent staring match.

Time ticked on as they held each other’s stares, a snarl pulling Pitch’s lips back from his teeth to cow the Fearling until it fell limp in his grip, finally submitting. Pitch smiled victoriously, relaxing his hand as the tail wrapped around his arm eased the pressure. Instead, it hung from his arm and slipped out of his fist, twisting its body to look up at him with pinpoint eyes. It flicked its tongue out at him, tasting the air. There was no fear here for it to feast on, and it was no match for Pitch, its throat clicking and squeaking as it studied him.

Pitch smirked, reaching out and scratching its chin with one long finger. ‘Ready to come home?’

It clicked again, and clamoured up onto the front of his robe, squirming up around his neck and back down his chest, head butting at the exposed skin where his robe split. It battered its head against his chest again and Pitch winced at the knock to his sternum, his breath hitching as he prepared himself for what happened next. A third strike to his body, and the Fearling sank straight through his skin, squirming its way into his body.

Pitch gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead against the rough stone, his ragged nails biting into his palms as pain exploded from the Fearling’s entry. He fell against the wall as it burrowed deeper, scratching and scraping its claws to push further in, and Pitch bit his knuckle to stop himself from crying out loud as the pain spiked, expanding through his chest, into his back, down to his abdomen. He felt sick and dizzy as cold sweat beaded on his skin, and he gasped for breath around his bloody hand, his teeth breaking the skin on the knuckles. _It would be over soon, nearly there, nearly there._

He slumped against the wall, hunched over himself with his chest alight in fire, the seconds ticking by, each one a millennium before the next struck. Then, as he curled into a ball, keening high in the back of his throat, the Fearling shifted from a physical creature into something akin to a thought, insubstantial and weightless at the edges of his psyche next to Onyx.

He didn’t move, curled up on himself in the quiet stillness of the alleyway. The pain didn’t abate, but didn’t increase either, stretching out in a plateau before it started to drop, painstaking bit by bit. He braced himself against the wall when the pain had finally eased to a manageable burn, his body bearing no marks that the Fearling had just invaded it. He pulled his hand from his mouth, glanced down at it before he wiped away the blood on his robe and straightened, shaky on his feet. He wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened his robe when a sharp, piercing ring shot through his mind. He clutched his head, the heel of his hands pressed to his temples as he gritted his teeth as he whirled around, pinpointing the origin of the waves of fear that pulsed through the air. He stumbled, disorientated, and braced one hand against the wall he had leaned on again as he picked through the fears.

The same message reverberated through them, familiar to Pitch not solely for the commonality between them, but for the identity of each fear. When fears were like fingerprints and he held the worldwide database of them, he could recognise them without much trouble, especially when he knew them personally. It seemed Jack Frost’s little last light was in trouble.

He looked around at the shadows he stood in, weighing his chances of coming under attack while he traversed them. He took the risk, jumping into the darkness as the fear heightened to dangerous levels, and he stepped out onto a familiar looking lake. He looked around, his eyes falling on the curled up figure trembling in the middle of the ice, fear rolling off him in waves as the rest of the believers shouted to him from the shore among a group of older teenagers laughing and jeering at him. He smiled toothily and clasped his hands behind his back as he wandered towards Jamie, the ice beneath him remaining undisturbed.

‘Well, well, what do we have here?’ her said silkily. Jamie tensed, looking out the corner of his eye to see him standing on the ice a few feet away from him. Pitch smirked, cocking an eyebrow in amusement.

‘Pitch, help! Please!’ Jamie begged him, looking up at him with eyes blown wide with fear. Pitch had once been convinced the colour of someone’s eyes reflected their deepest fears, but Pitch could not read their eyes the same way he could read their fears. Their eye colour seemed to be just a colour, except they burned with light from deep within themselves.

‘The bogeyman won’t help you, freak!’ Terry yelled from the shore, blind to Pitch. Pitch glanced his way and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

‘Pitch,’ Jamie repeated, unsteady on his feet. ‘Pitch, please help me!’

Pitch cocked his head to the side and leaned down till their eyes were level, his lips curled into a twisted smile. ‘I’m not a Guardian, little believer.’

Jamie stared at him, speechless. Pitch shrugged, his smile broadening.

‘Pitch,’ Jamie pleaded, desperate. ‘Pitch, you can all the fear you want from me! You can send me nightmares every night. _Please_!’

‘Hmm,’ Pitch hummed, pursing his lips. His eyes rolled skyward as he contemplated the idea before they flicked back to level with Jamie’s. ‘Nope.’

He straightened and turned away towards the shore. His friends shrank back from Pitch’s path, and he paid them no heed till Pippa spoke, near tears.

‘You won’t help us?’ she asked, her hands pressed together as if in prayer, fearful. Fighting Nightmares had been easy as a child, when the dangers of reality were just a fantasy concocted by adults to make children behave, to stop them going on adventures or fighting the bogeyman or having fun. Time had taught them it wasn’t a fantasy, and the dangers of reality were far closer than any of them wanted to admit.

‘Not a Guardian,’ he repeated with a smirk. ‘I’m just here for the dinner and a show.’

‘He believes! We all do!’ she cried. ‘Doesn’t that mean anything?’

‘There are always more children in the world,’ Pitch replied with a dismissive backwards glance. His smirk grew at the look on their faces, and he turned back to the shadows, intending to watch from there. An ominous growl stopped him in his tracks, his eyes widening in realisation.

‘Oh, stuff this!’ Cupcake snapped, shedding her coat and scarf. ‘Claude, Caleb, give me your scarves and coats.’

‘You want to go for a swim, too, freak?’ Ned jeered, reaching out and shoving at Cupcake. She whirled around and shoved him back with more force than either of them anticipated, Ned’s eyes going wide as he fell back and crashed through the ice in the shallows of the lake.

He yelped, scrambling out of the freezing water as the ice split apart. Jamie fell to his knees as the ice shattered around him and the water seeped over the edge, soaking his jeans and trainers. The cold sank straight to his bones, and he looked down at the darkness in the lake that waited to welcome him as a new, permanent resident. A flash of black cut across his peripheral vision, and he looked up to see Pitch towering over him. Pitch had his back to Jamie, facing towards the shore with a glittering scythe grasped in his hands.

The believers cried out in fright, Terry and his friends cursing as they turned and ran away from the lake, leaving them alone on the shore. Jamie tried to lean his body to look around Pitch, but the ice threatened to tip him into the frigid water and so he was forced to stay rooted where he knelt.

‘Pitch... I’m scared,’ he whispered. Terror filled him, spiking higher than it had been just a moment ago, giving way to panic. He had the urge to jump up and flee, even as the rational side of his mind told it would lead him to his death. It was no more than a whisper in a hurricane, fear gripping tight and blanketing his mind of all other thoughts than to run.

He tensed, prepared to rise and sprint off the ice when Pitch stepped aside, revealing the shoreline to him and he froze, eyes wide.

‘I imagine,’ Pitch said, turning the scythe over in his hand. ‘They’re partially to blame.’

 _They_ were dark, twisted creatures of shadow that crawled out of the forest towards the lake, the whip crack of their snapping jaws echoing around the trees. The group of teenagers on the shore huddled close together as the creatures surrounded them, roving golden eyes over them before turning their attention to Pitch out on the lake. Jamie swallowed around the acid in his throat.

‘They can’t hurt us,’ he whispered as the Fearlings advanced on them, too many teeth and claws and eyes in the blackness slithering towards them. ‘Jack said they couldn’t attack us.’

‘Lucky you,’ Pitch drawled as he tightened his grip on the scythe, shifting into defence as the Fearlings approached. Jamie shivered, struggling for breath in the thick, heavy air that had collected around the lake.

One creature slithered out onto the ice, slinking its long body over the cracks and gaps in the fractured surface towards Pitch and Jamie, forcing the ice to shift and splinter. It groaned under Jamie, spiking his fear. The Fearling’s eyes shrank to pinpoints in the gold orbs, narrowing in on him. Its tongue flicked out of its top mouth and it growled, crouching low to pounce. Pitch raised his hand, the scythe curving behind him ready to swing round when a flash of white and blue slammed onto the ice between them, the butt of a crooked staff striking the frozen surface and sending curls of frost and ice along the fissures. The ice knitted itself back together, strengthened under Jamie and trapping the frigid water beneath it. 

Jack stood from his crouch, levelling his staff at the Fearling in front of him. Its lips pulled back in a snarl, all its eyes turning to focus on him. He scowled at it, and snapped his arms forward at the elbow to strike when it leapt up and slammed into him, sending them both sprawling across the ice.

‘Jack!’ Jamie yelled as more Fearlings bolted onto the ice, safe from falling through it. Pitch stepped forward to meet them, swinging his scythe low to the ground to catch at their feet, twisting and twirling to catch them as they surrounded him. Jack sent a bolt of frost lightning through the chest of the one on top of him, and tipped it off of him as it began to disintegrate. He leapt up just as another broke away from the pack and charged at him only to stumble when a stone collided with the back of its head.

The Fearlings stopped and turned their attention back to the teenagers on the shoreline: Caleb and Claude were holding handfuls of rocks, looking guilty.

'Uh oh,' they chimed, backing away as the Fearlings turned and advanced on them. Cupcake came forward with a broken tree branch, slamming it down just short of the closest one’s nose and forcing it back. The others grabbed more stones, squashed snow together till they became balls of ice, pulled low hanging branches from the trees for weapons and held them aloft in preparation for attack.

‘No!’ Jack cried as a Fearling the size and build of a Rottweiler lunged at Monty. Jack dashed towards the shore, blasting anything in his way with frost and ice to clear his path towards the believers. ‘Get Jamie off the ice, Pitch!’

He landed between the Fearlings and the believers, calling on the wind to push the creatures back, and the children pelted them with their own makeshift weapons.

Pitch kicked away the Fearling he had been fighting, slicing through another that wasn’t fast enough to get out of the reach of his scythe. He pushed his hair back from his face, huffing a breath in the lull between attacks. He turned to Jamie, his eyes still on the lookout for the oncoming assault.

‘Looks like today is your lucky day, little believer,’ he said, reaching down to grab Jamie’s hood. He yelped the instant his hand came in contact with material, passing straight through it. He pulled his hand in close to his chest, his face twisting into a grimace. He turned and stared at Jamie, and Jamie mirrored his shock.

‘But I can see you,’ Jamie whispered. ‘I believe in you.’

‘It’s not enough,’ Pitch replied, looking down at his trembling hand. ‘Not for me.’

His gaze hardened as he looked back up at the Fearlings, lowering his hand to grip the scythe again. The Fearlings bared their teeth at him, and he stepped forward to meet them again.

*

On the shore, Jack’s staff arced through the air in a blur of constant movement, frost lightning crackling from the crook of his staff. The kids pressed their hands over their ears to block out the thunderous clap fracturing the air as two more Fearlings were struck down by it. Jack turned to look out onto the ice, where a Fearling had Pitch locked in its grip, its teeth around his scythe, forcing him back with its bulk. He tipped his scythe to the side, unbalancing the creature and using its own momentum to throw it across the ice into another advancing Fearling.

‘Pitch!’ he yelled, his voice breaking under the strained fury in it. He threw up stalagmites from the ground as a barrier, halting the Fearlings and forcing them to regroup.

‘Out of luck, Frost!’ Pitch yelled back with a snarl, decapitating another Fearling, darkness pouring from the wound and disappearing into the shadows beneath the ice. Another took its place, rearing up and slamming its front talons into the ice and splitting it apart under Pitch. He stumbled, water sloshing over the frozen edges and lapping at his feet. ‘Frost!’

Jack turned and slammed the crook of his staff against the surface of the lake and sent a burst of cold across the ice, freezing it again. He spun around, watching the Fearlings as they circled around the stalagmite barrier, eyeing the children hungrily. He raised his staff, keeping the children behind him when his neck began to prickle, the soft hairs rising up at the nape. He narrowed his eyes, suppressing a shiver when Pippa screamed, her eyes drawn to the branch above their heads.

‘Jack, above you!’ she cried, and Jack’s head snapped back, his eyes falling on Lady Luck as she lounged on the tree branch above their heads. She rested her chin in one paw, her long, thick tail curling down and flicking just out of reach of Jack’s head. Her gold eyes flashed, flicking between the group below her and the pair out on the ice, a smile curling at her lips.

‘You could help us, you know,’ Jack snapped, turning to face the Fearlings again.

She cocked her head to the side and her smile widened. ‘I already am, Jack-kun.’

Jack narrowed his eyes in confusion, before a snarl snapped his attention back to the Fearlings surrounding him, just as a new voice shot through the trees.

*

‘Jamie!’ Satu shouted as she scrambled down the hill, kicking up snow and the dead leaves underneath it in her haste. She dumped her backpack at the base of a tree half way down, her handbag following it as she slid and slipped onto the lake shore. Darcy followed close behind, a suitcase abandoned behind her as she rushed down the hill, jumping over roots and skidding over the snow.

‘Darcy! Satu!’

The Fearlings recoiled at the sound of the children’s relieved shouts, the fear that had permeated the air dissipating in the presence of the two women. Jack and Pitch struck with renewed vigour, pushing them back.

‘What the hell are you guys doing here?’ Darcy demanded, kicking the stalagmites apart with the sole of her boot and helping them one by one out of the circle of ice.

‘Terry and his friends were chasing us,’ Claude explained, grabbing her hand and allowing her to haul him free. ‘They pushed Jamie. He slid out onto the ice.’

Darcy and Satu both looked over at Jamie kneeling on the ice shivering, their expressions mirroring each other as they turned at each other. In unison, they shed their coats to the ground, and unravelled their scarves, looping the length of colour around each other.

‘Guys, we need your scarves,’ Satu said, tying one end around her waist. Darcy knotted the others down the length, her lips pressed together into a thin line. When the chain was complete, she grabbed the other end, wrapping it around her hand for a better grip.

'You know, if you die, I’ll kill you.'

‘If I die, you can have your hours back,' Satu said, knotting the scarf one more time.

'Jamie, lay down on the ice!’ she ordered, and Jamie dropped flat onto his stomach, his eyes roaming the ice, like he was watching something.

'After all that effort getting them for you,' Darcy joked. Satu offered her a reassuring smile, before she eased her way onto the ice. They held their breaths as she tested the hold with the toe of her boot before setting her weight on it. She expected to hear it crack, the scarf chain pulling taut as Darcy locked her arms, ready to yank Satu back but – miraculously – it held. Satu dropped onto her stomach, her nose wrinkling in discomfort as the cold seeped through her jumper, and she army crawled as fast as she could towards Jamie, Darcy unwinding the material bunched in her hands after her.

Dragging herself across the lake, Satu tried not to think about the ice underneath her, didn't look at it, ignoring the muffled cracking that warned it could split apart. It did a moment later, barely a foot from where she lay, as if cracked open by a blade before it froze over again. She jumped in fright, and shuffled faster towards Jamie. Instinct told her to jump up and run to him when a hole opened up beside him and he ducked his head under his hands. She suppressed the urge, curling her hands into fists and gritting her teeth, keeping her eyes off the ice as she drew up beside him and grabbed the hood of his jacket.

‘Are you okay, Jamie?’ she asked, tugging the knot loose around her waist and looping the material around Jamie.

Jamie nodded wordlessly.

‘Okay, lets get you off the ice.’

The ice splintered around them, and her eyes went wide. ‘Come on, quick!’

She grabbed the scarves with one hand and tugged. On the shore, Darcy yanked the material as fast as she could, towing them back to shore. The others helped, and together they dragged them back to safety as the ice broke and splintered around them.

Darcy didn’t let go of the scarves until they reached solid ground, and she dropped the long coils at her feet and pulled Satu up onto the snow bank by her jumper. Satu scrambled up half way, still on her knees, and collapsed on her back in the snow, ignoring it as it melted into her clothes. A shadow fell over her and she craned her neck to look up at Darcy leaning over her, her trademark crooked half smile on her lips.

‘Aren’t you glad we decided to take a short cut through the park?’

‘Ecstatic.’

'You gotta admit, it's one hell of a welcome back,' Darcy said as she reached down and offered Satu her hand, and Satu let herself be pulled to her feet. She grabbed her long leather coat and shrugged it on, shaking off the snow and ice that coated her back. The others grabbed their stuff hurriedly, untying the jackets and scarves from each other, wrapping Jamie in them to stop him shivering.

‘Come on, we need to get you home and warmed up quickly,’ Satu said, striding up to her rucksack and pulling out an extra jumper from it.

‘But what about—’ Jamie began through chattering teeth, turning back to look out over the ice.

Claude squeezed his arm reassuringly, pulling him towards the path.

‘Jamie, dude, c’mon, they can handle it,’ he said, following his gaze. ‘We gotta get you out of here; we can’t do anything else to help them.’

Jamie lingered, his gaze switching between Jack and Pitch battling the declining number of Fearlings circling them, and the path back up onto the main road, where Claude was pulling him.

‘Jamie, you could get hypothermia,’ Satu said, wrapping her extra jumper round his shoulders. ‘We have to get you out of the cold.’

The others chorused their agreement, despite their own clear hesitancy to leave Jack and Pitch alone. Finally, Jamie nodded, and they hurried back up the hill, each of the believers sparing one last look at the fight on the ice before it disappeared from their view between the trees.

*

Out on the ice, Pitch and Jack stood between the remaining Fearlings and the retreating teenagers, forcing the creatures to flee with only final blast of frost lightning, and they disappeared into the shadows of the forest. Neither pursued them, standing on the ice in silence, shaking from adrenaline. The Fearlings they had felled lay disintegrating before their eyes, and Jack exhaled a sigh when it became clear they wouldn't return, lowering his staff and straightening, feeling the strain in his bruised muscles and aching bones. He’d take fighting Nightmares over Fearlings any day; at least they crumbled into sand with the barest strike. Fearlings were hardier, stronger and a lot more aggressive; he wasn’t surprised Pitch preferred them as Nightmares.

‘What happened?’ he asked, turning to Pitch and resting his staff across his shoulder. Pitch looked haggard, staring off unfocused into the distance. Jack thought Pitch hadn’t heard him, when he spoke.

‘What happened?’ he repeated, a quiet foreboding in his voice. ‘What _happened_?'

Jack raised his staff just in time and Pitch’s scythe collided with it, the force of it vibrating down his arms.

Pitch snarled at Jack, his eyes hard flints of gold as he glared down at him over their weapons.

‘ _YOU_ happened, Frost! You, and the Guardians, meddling with belief! “They’re just bad dreams!” “They can’t hurt you!”’ Pitch punctuated each barbed statement with a vicious swing of his scythe, clashing with Jack’s staff as he blocked Pitch, retreating across the cracked, splintered surface of his lake, pursued by Pitch. ‘It’s all a bit of _fun_!’

‘What were we supposed to do?’ Jack shot back; deflecting another barrage of frenzied strikes. He had no doubt Pitch would kill him if he could get an opening, his gold eyes wide and mad, his teeth bared in a snarl. ‘Leave you to send darkness everywhere? Let you terrorise the kids?’

‘At least then their belief would’ve been useful! Without the fear fuelling it, it’s _nothing_! _I need. Their. Fear_!’

‘Just because they aren’t afraid of you, doesn’t mean they don’t feel fear that you can use!’ Jack said. He leapt back to avoid the sharp curve of the scythe, too close to gouging open his abdomen, and his heel struck a jagged chunk of ice. He lost balance, caught off guard and tumbled back, his head cracking against the ice. Bright lights danced in front of his eyes, and Pitch hefted the scythe over his head.

Baby Tooth squeaked from Jack’s hood, darting up into Pitch’s face, pecking and slapping at him. He swatted her with the back of his hand, sent her tumbling through the air.

Jack shook his head, clearing his vision and rolled as Pitch buried the scythe blade half way through the ice where his heart would’ve been.

‘You think it _matters_?’ Pitch pulled the blade out and followed Jack as he pushed himself across the lake, away from Pitch. ‘What good is a bogeyman if no one is afraid of him? What good does it do for them to know of my existence and feel _nothing_ for it?’

‘You’re too dangerous, Pitch!’

‘ _I’m_ dangerous?’ he snarled. With a yell he drove the scythe down, and Jack dropped flat onto his back and raised his staff above his head. The scythe collided with it before it could reach his neck, locked in position. Pitch closed the gap between them, hovering above Jack so their faces were inches apart. Jack could make out the thin vessels in the whites of Pitch’s eyes, could hear the angry hiss of his breath in his ear like an enraged snake.

‘Look where we are. Look where  _your_ believers ran to,’ Pitch hissed, his gold eyes burning as he pressed his weight down. Jack thinned his lips as his arms shook from exhaustion, locked at the elbow. Pitch bared his teeth and he pressed down on the scythe again, testing his resistance. Baby Tooth was there again, pulling at one of the soft black spikes of hair at the back of his head, trying to get him off of Jack.

‘Don’t turn this on me. Jamie didn’t go onto the ice deliberately,’ he said. He pushed back at Pitch’s scythe in frustration, trying to ignore his burning muscles. Pitch had strength and anger and his height to his advantage: Jack couldn’t budge him, and he didn’t have the leverage to throw him. Pitch had him trapped.

‘Your lake. Your ice.’ Pitch curled his lips into a toothy grin, his eyes wide as he stared at Jack, a dark, quiet chuckle breathed through his teeth. ‘But it’s all just _fun and games_ , isn’t it, Frost? Tell me, what happens when it goes wrong, Frost? What happens when you don’t get lucky? You may be an immortal child Jack, but they aren’t. The world isn’t going to run out of children, but it can _keep_ them as children in a very permanent way.’

Jack glared up at him. ‘Don’t act like you’re worried about them when the only life you care for is your own.’

‘ _Why do you think that is_?’ Pitch bellowed. Jack flinched, his ears ringing. ‘No Fearlings! No Nightmares! No _power_! Stuck with you Guardians, scraping together the scraps of fear you all so _generously_ allow me to take, fighting for a world that refutes my very existence and when it doesn’t, it mocks me with its apathy! What do you think caused the imbalance, Frost? What do you think gave Rumpelstiltskin a way _back_?’

‘I didn’t know!’ Jack shouted back, desperate. His arms were ready to give out, his body ready to concede defeat. ‘I didn’t know what would happen if kids stopped being scared of you! You were terrifying them! You took Tooth’s faeries! You hurt Bunny and tried to manipulate me! You didn’t care about anyone but yourself, you _enjoyed_ hurting everyone! What were we _supposed_ to do?’

Pitch leaned in close till their noses almost touched. Gold dominated Jack’s vision as he stared, frozen, into Pitch’s hard, unforgiving eyes. ‘You should have left well enough alone. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.’

Jack stared, mute, as Pitch snarled down at him. ‘Believe me Frost; I don’t care what happens to _any_ of you. I didn’t five years ago, and I don’t today. Whatever happens between now and the winter solstice, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I’m still standing when the dust settles. Your lives, their lives – they mean _nothing_ to me. All we need is a balance, all it takes is one light to counteract the darkness and if that’s all that remains, I don’t care, as long as I rule the dark again.’

He jolted the scythe again, and Jack swallowed a muffled groan of pain and held firm. Sneering, Pitch pushed himself up away from Jack and turned, dragging the scythe behind him with a grating scrape, his shoulders slumped in resignation. Jack let his arms collapse at his sides, gasping for breath. Baby Tooth flitted around his head, chirping.

‘It’s okay, Baby Tooth,’ he assured her. ‘I’m-’

Pitch pivoted, and swung the scythe down on Jack.

Jack didn’t have time to block it, flinching back as the blade whistled through the air in a smooth arc when there was a sharp crack around them. The ice beneath Pitch split and he lost his footing, toppling to the side as the scythe’s path curved away from Jack and clattered against the ice, disintegrating into a pile of black sand.

Pitch stumbled, but did not fall, and spun around with a glare, searching for the cause of his failed attack. His eyes were drawn to the small coin lying innocently at the edge of a chunk of ice, and he looked to the shore with a glare.

Jack followed his gaze as Lady Luck dropped from her perch, her mouth pulled down at the corners in annoyance. Her ears twitched, sending dots of light dancing across the ice where the light hit her abundant jewellery.

‘I think that is enough, don’t you?’ she asked, her tone leaving no room for arguments. She cocked an eyebrow, daring anyone to try.

Pitch said nothing, calling the black sand back to him and ignoring the coin on the ice. Lady Luck smiled, looking between the two of them

‘My apologies, Jack-kun, but you are needed with North-san and the Guardians,’ she explained.

Jack pulled himself to his feet, brushing the excess ice and frost from his hoodie and trousers, and looked up the hill where everyone had fled, frowning. 'Will they be alright?'

'Hmm?' Lady Luck cocked her head to the side, her eyes rolling skyward as she considered the question. Taking a coin from the pouch strapped to her thigh and flicking it up, she snatched it from the air and slapped it onto the back of her hand. Revealing it, she nodded. 'I believe they're not intended for misfortune, today.'

Jack nodded after a moment, kicking his staff back up into his hands.

‘Come along,’ Lady Luck said, jerking her head to one side, signalling he should follow her. She lost her smile as she glanced over at Pitch, her lip curling in disgust. ‘Bring him along, please.’

Jack shared a look with Pitch, a silent question asked of whether he would follow. Pitch just sneered, and shrugged, the fight lost in him. Jack nodded, leaping up into the air as Lady Luck set off on all fours, bounding away with incredible speed. Pitch followed behind bitterly after a moment, disappearing into the shadows.

*****

‘Sophie, I’m okay!’ Jamie sighed as he tried to wriggle out of his sister’s grasp again. Her arms were anchored around his waist and her face buried in the fabric of his coat, unwilling to let him go. She’d stayed like that ever since they left the lakeside, after Satu and Darcy had offered to walk them all home. They had travelled in a long, wandering circuit past all their houses to make sure Terry and his group of friends didn’t try to start any trouble again, dragging all of Satu’s possessions along behind them. The conversation had revolved around catching up with Satu, hearing about her adventures in NYC and her stories, trading a few between them.

‘Come on, Soph, you're acting weird,’ Jamie tried again, digging his fingers between his body and her arm, trying to pry her off of him again. ‘What’s mom going to think when she gets back?’

‘She’s just worried about you,’ Satu said. ‘You gave everyone a scare today.’

‘Nothing bad would’ve happened.’

‘Hey, that's easy to say after nothing bad has happened,’ Satu replied, raising her eyebrows. He wrinkled his nose in answer to that, letting her know what he thought. She smiled in response.

‘Jack would’ve saved me,’ Jamie murmured, ducking his head, as if he didn’t want her to hear him.

‘Jack?’ Satu said, cocking her head to the side.

‘Jack Frost!’ Sophie answered, clinging tighter to Jamie. The youngest of the group had few memories of Satu, too young to remember her when she'd left, but she quickly warmed to her. Satu smiled and Darcy chuckled from her other side, recognising the name from their own childhood. The connection to the frozen lake made sense now. Sophie carried on anyway, enjoying explaining things to adults when it was usually the other way around. ‘That’s his lake. He’s our Guardian. Bunny’s my favourite though, but don’t tell Santa, I still want my presents this year.’

‘It's okay, I won't tell,’ Satu promised. ‘But Jack can’t be a very good one, if he let Jamie end up on the ice.’

‘He would’ve saved Jamie!’ Sophie argued fiercely, finally releasing her brother. She turned to Satu, pouting, determined to prove her point. ‘But the Nightmares were fighting him and Pitch so they had to fight them and Pitch couldn’t get Jamie off the ice and-’

Satu looked to Darcy, bewildered, and Darcy laughed. ‘“Pitch Black” I believe, is the Bogeyman. Bunny is the Easter Bunny, funny enough.’

‘No kidding,’ Satu mused. ‘

Satu nodded, and they lapsed into silence as they walked. She knew of Jack Frost by another name: her mother had been of Swedish descent, sharing the different legends and folklore from all over Scandinavia with Satu up until she was six years old. Then Satu had to carry on discovering new legends and stories alone.

‘So, what are these Guardians like?’ Satu asked, retreating from her own head. ‘It sounds like the Bogeyman is having some trouble if he’s the one fighting nightmares.’

Jamie glanced up at her, a wary look on his face. ‘It’s okay; you don’t have to believe us. Most people don’t.’

Satu stared at Jamie, her brow furrowed as she caught the crestfallen look on his face.

‘I believe I’ll kick Jack’s butt if I ever see him, leaving you out on that ice,’ she replied, smiling at him encouragingly. Jamie returned her smile weakly. She had always made up stories for them when she had babysat them when they were much younger; she wouldn’t judge him, even if she didn’t believe him.

‘So, what happened today, back there?’ she continued. Jamie grimaced.

‘Terry and his gang bully them. Caleb talks about the Guardians sometimes down at the club,’ Darcy explained, shaking her head. 'It's been escalating for a while, now.'

'What about their parents?' Satu asked, pursing her lips. Darcy shrugged.

'Everyone just keeps telling them to grow up, to stop talking about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, to stop drawing attention to themselves.'

They shared a look, and Darcy nodded her head at Satu's raised eyebrows.

‘Yeah, that bullshit always solved everything,' she said, then glanced at Jamie and Sophie, raising a finger in warning. 'Don't go repeating my bad language.'

'I've heard worse,' Jamie said with a half-smile.

'Jamie says worse,' Sophie added, and Jamie frowned at her.

Satu chuckled before she sobered and her thoughts turned to the kids. She hated that they were getting picked on because of their imaginations and the stories they created among themselves; worse still, the ones who were supposed to look out for them were brushing it aside and doing nothing to help.

‘What’re you thinking?’ Darcy asked.

‘I’m thinking maybe they need a different kind of Guardian right now,’ she replied. ‘Like one who’ll be there to help them when things get nasty.’

‘Oh crud,’ Jamie whispered, jerking to a halt in the middle of the street. The colour drained from his face as he looked up at his house, his mother’s car parked in the driveway. Satu and Darcy winced with sympathy, understanding his sudden panic: sneaking out was one of the staples of teenage life, and while they could brag about the number of close calls that they’d gotten away with, they knew from experience the sheer terror of being caught.

‘Do you want us to walk up with you?’ Satu offered, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘We can figure out something to tell your mom?’

‘It wouldn’t make much difference,’ he said, scrubbing at his face with the hem of his sleeve.

‘You sure?’ Satu offered again, and Jamie shook his head. Satu frowned, looking between him and the house. She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, getting his attention. ‘We’re heading round to Sonja’s later. If you need to talk to someone, you can always go there.’

‘Yeah,’ Jamie agreed half-heartedly. He’d be grounded until college after this; he didn’t set his hopes too high of getting away once his mother had her say. He exhaled heavily, preparing himself for the onslaught that would come sooner or later: he might as well get it over with as quickly as he could. He waved goodbye to the two young women as he led Sophie up to the house. She bounced on the balls of her feet, waving to Satu and Darcy as well and calling out goodbye.

They waved back, uncertainty and worry on their faces. They couldn’t do anything to fix their problem, though they did wait till Jamie closed the door behind him before heading home themselves.

* * *

Fearlings swirled in a spiralling whirlwind of darkness as they descended to the blackened, charred ground. Setting down on the ruins of Mother Goose’s library, they crawled towards Rumpelstiltskin standing in the middle of the rubble, circling the immaculate, glittering globe with a curious expression on his face, watching the lights as they danced and flickered across the surfaces, jumping between the three planes. A mass of writhing shadows formed a circle around Rumpelstiltskin, waiting on his orders. The others joined them, merging with darkness seamlessly.

‘Interesting, isn’t it, how everyone reacts to news of their impending death?’ he mused, talking to no one in particular. Fearlings circled him, clicking their teeth and growling deep in their throat, watching him with unblinking eyes as he paced around the construct. ‘No two ever react the same way. Some fight against it, others accept it, while others simply try to avoid it.’

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, as if something dissatisfied him and turned towards the darkness, staring into it. He cocked his head to one side, and clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Tell me, which of you did I send after the Guardian’s little pawn? You’re all in such a clutter like that; it’s hard to tell you apart.’

The small group of Fearlings – the last of the pack that had fought at the lake – slunk forward, detaching themselves from the rest of the living darkness. Their throats clicked and choked as they communicated amongst each other, trying to scent out any fear in the surrounding area. There was none here: after all, what did nothingness have to fear?

‘Good,’ he praised them, sauntering towards them. The hive behind them retreated, like a wave drawn away from the sand back to the sea.

‘You went after the little pawn, knowing the loopholes Pitch had so graciously left in the deal?’ Rumpelstiltskin asked, and the pack nodded. Rumpelstiltskin mirrored the gesture, pursing his lips in thought.

‘I made all the loopholes clear, didn’t I, so they could be exploited?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow. The Fearlings nodded or growled in confirmation after a brief moment of hesitation, glancing between them in suspicion. Rumpelstiltskin smiled, noticing their wariness. He held up one hand, raising one long, thin finger in point.

‘One more question,’ he said. ‘Just one.’

There was a brief pause. He lowered his hand, clasping it behind his back again.

‘Did I mention _any_ loopholes regarding the children?’

The Fearlings were silent, the darkness behind them becoming agitated. The air thickened, a bitter taste clawing at the back of their throats. They realised it was their own fear.

‘Perhaps I need to repeat myself,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, his face twisting into something malicious and vile. ‘Did I mention _ANY LOOPHOLES REGARDING THE CHILDREN_?’

The Fearlings shrank back, pressing low to the ground. Behind them, the Fearlings churned and roiled in a frenzied mass of shadow, watching them from the safety of the hive. Slowly, the Fearlings shook their heads, watching Rumpelstiltskin with unblinking eyes.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t.’

He straightened, pushing his tousled black hair back from his face and smoothing out the non-existent creases in his suit.

‘I did say how interesting it was,’ he continued, circling them, ‘how one reacts to news of their impending death. How it influences their judgement and their actions. But it’s far more interesting how they react, when they aren’t aware of it at all.’

There was a cacophony of shrieks, and the Fearlings tried to leap away in realisation, but it was too late. One by one they felt the inescapable pulling sensation sucking them into the crushing vortex that had opened up in the palm of Rumpelstiltskin’s hand. They clawed at the ground, twisting and scrambling in screaming panic to keep their footing as one by one they lost their grip, pulled in and crushed into nothingness, unmade as if they had never existed in the first place.

Silence fell across the rubble of the library.

Rumpelstiltskin lowered his hand, relaxing it and stretching his fingers out from the hooked claws they had been. Sliding one hand into his suit pocket, he turned away from the shadows and tapped his long, bony fingers of his free hand along the curve of the illuminated globe in front of him.

‘Let’s all play fair now,’ he said, as if to himself. He tilted his head this way and that as he watched the lights jump and flicker before his eyes. He smoothed his palm across the cold metal, caressing it as his hand passed over the multitude of glowing lights. He paused, holding it there. ‘We mustn’t upset the balance here, even if it is to my advantage. I’ll get what I came for: I’m patient, I can wait. I have the time to find it, while they all search for their precious Mother Goose. I just need to find it.’

He removed his hand from the globe, watching the lights dance across the surface. ‘Someone knows. Someone remembers where they hid it.’


	12. Seasons

Jack touched down in front of the main entrance doors, swinging his staff over shoulder as Lady Luck drew level with him. She stood up and brushed the snow from her paws, pulling a face when the snow clung to the thick black fur between the small pink pads on her palm and fingers. She glanced up and caught him watching her, and he looked away, still wary of her. Not only did she have her sharp teeth and long, curved claws in her arsenal, she had incredible speed and stamina, able to tail his shadow all the way to the pole as they made their way north along the eastern coast of North America into Canada, and then across the Canadian Arctic as twilight painted the sky pastel violet and navy blue, while Pitch had risked hiding in the shadows throughout the entire journey.

Every so often Jack had craned his head, trying to spot Pitch from his vantage point, stewing in guilt and doubts as he flew.

Pitch had tipped the balance first.

Pitch had threatened the kids and the Guardians: he hadn’t played fair, so the Guardians had done what they had to do to save themselves and the kids. Jack couldn’t believe he hadn’t done the right thing, even when he caught sight of Pitch’s still-healing bruises and the twisting in his gut worsened.

‘Jack-kun?’ Lady Luck asked, catching him back from his thoughts. He jerked, looking up at her. She cocked her head to the side questioningly.

He shook his head, unable to put it into words. She shrugged off the matter and beckoned him to follow as she pulled the door open. Pitch kept to the shadows, but Jack could feel hidden eyes boring through him, as if Pitch was reading his mind. He hurried after Lady Luck through the high arched doorway, wanting to find the Guardians as fast as he could. Perhaps North would be able to ease his worries when he spoke to him.

Inside, the workshop buzzed livelier than Jack had ever seen it, spirits from across the world gathered in every open space available to them without disturbing the yetis work stations. They darted between floors and along corridors, the elves acting as messengers from one group to another and then back again, carrying ledgers and maps and papers to tables and chairs and any free surface that could hold them. Shouts rang from one balcony to the one opposite, while others huddled together in tight circles, murmuring among themselves. Despite the hubbub, there were noticeably fewer than there had been at the original meeting, and the twisting in his gut churned up a wave of nausea when he considered the reasons behind so many absentees. He drew his hood up over his head, keeping close to Lady Luck as they wove their way through the packed crowd, glancing around as he passed by spirits he recognised, ignoring the whispers and murmurs as unfamiliar gazes followed him. Mica, Esa, and the Kitsune offered smiles when they caught his eye, before they turned back to the open books and spread out maps, gesturing to bright coloured markers on the paper. He caught sight of Pandora with one of the muses through the crowd behind the three canine spirits, and winced when she locked eyes with him, her youthful face twisted into a hard scowl.

Still mad about the box thing.

‘Why’s everyone here?’ Jack muttered, and Lady Luck glanced over her shoulder, her sharp hearing catching his query.

‘North-san has opened his workshop as a base for spirits to reside, if they feel unsafe,’ she explained. 'Especially at night, now.'

‘Pitch said there had been Fearling attacks,’ Jack said, dropping his head low. It was the consequence of  _his_  demands to keep the children safe. The continuous stares weighed on him.

‘Hmm,’ Lady Luck said, confirming his fears. ‘There have been casualties already. North-san does not wish to lose any more of us, until we are safe once again and new spirits can take up the name of those that are gone.’

Jack didn’t know what to say to that, and they ascended the stairs to the higher levels in silence. The crowd became sparser the higher they went until Lady Luck turned down an empty corridor, and Jack could barely hear the drone of the spirits far below them. Lady Luck navigated the hallways and turns like she had lived here all her life, and every so often they’d pass a yeti or elves would run underfoot, carrying supplies for guest rooms or stolen cookies by the armful, grinning up at Jack on their way past. He smiled back, sparks of frost dancing out of the crook of his staff and ice formed underfoot, sending them skidding and skating down the halls.

They eventually came to a stop by a door at the end of the corridor, and Jack swallowed the last of his stolen cookie, smiling at Lady Luck when she did a double-take, a pout hiding the smile on her lips. Around the corner, there was a yell of surprise, a loud thump and a clatter and the frantic jingling of bells, drawing their eyes down the corridor. A yeti howled vicious curses, its growls echoing down the corridor and Jack winced.

Baby Tooth poked her head out from Jack's pocket at the sound of all the commotion. She bit her lip in a grimace, hiding her face in her hands and burrowed back into the confines of his hoodie.

‘Whoops,’ Jack muttered, looking at Lady Luck. She smiled conspiratorially, a wink promising not to tell as she entered the room without bothering to knock.

‘I return with company, North-san,’ she announced, and Jack followed her into the room, just as a boomerang whistled through the air towards him.

He yelped, ducking to avoid his skull cracking open on the sharp ridge of the carved wood before it embedded into the wall behind him with a heavy thunk. He didn’t even feel the disturbance in the air as it curved around him harmlessly, missing him.

He straightened with a jolt, eyes wide and heart thumping. His voice jumped up two octaves, trying to sound light and joking. ‘Need a new target for practice or something?’

Bunny shook his head, scowling at the wall behind him.

‘Wasn’t aiming for ya, mate,’ he said. Jack looked over his shoulder at the boomerang, before turning back to Bunny incredulously.

‘What made you so sure you’d  _miss_?’

‘Hope.’

Jack gawped at him, looked over to North and Sandy to see if Bunny was being serious or if it was a joke they were playing on him. Hope?  _Hope_? Hope he’d miss? Hope his aim was as good as he thought? Hope it wasn’t Jack walking through the door? A retort formed on his lips when the jarring scrape of wood grabbed his attention, and he turned to see Pitch pinned to the wall, the boomerang snagging his robe.

Pitch’s face twisted into a snarl, glaring at Bunnymund as he yanked at the boomerang again, slackening its hold –-

\-- Bunny leapt, clearing the table in one long leap. Lean whipcord muscle tensed under thick grey fur as he landed and threw his weight at Pitch. Jack stepped out of the way, but Bunny still shouldered past him, shoving Pitch against the wall and curling his hands in the material of Pitch’s robe. The two spirits snarled at each other, teeth bared as Pitch’s long fingers gripped the thick fur around Bunny’s neck, dangerously close to strangling him, stuck in a stalemate, the magic of North’s workshop dissuading them from directly attacking each other. It didn’t stop them from trying, pushing their luck to see how far they could exploit the limits of North’s home without backlash.

‘Woah! Bunny, hold up!’ Jack demanded, pushing his hood down and grabbing Bunny’s arm as he tightened his grip on Pitch, keeping him from twisting free.

‘What the hell are ya playing at, Pitch?’ Bunny snarled over Jack, trying to shake him off. ‘No’ exactly the best time t’go wanderin’, don’t ya think? What if Rumpelstiltskin had caught up w’ you, you think about that? You think about the spirit’s you’d be sending up the creek if you ended up on the wrong side of that Fearling army of yours?’

Pitch’s snarl curved into a smile, a maniacal light flaring in his eyes as he leaned in close to Bunny. ‘Not my Fearlings anymore, as Jack so kindly reminded me.’

Bunny bore his weight against Pitch, pushing him harder into the wall. ‘Don’t use him to cover up yer own screw ups! ‘Ya should’ve stayed put w’ Sandy! Remember Pitch, if we go, we’re  _gone_  and there’ll be no fixing it! Ya should’ve stayed  _put_!’

‘It’s a good thing he didn’t!’ Jack said, the words spilling past his lips before he could swallow them down. Pitch didn’t deserve his help after everything he had done, but Jack still grabbed Bunny’s arm, the pads of his fingers brushing over old scars raised on the skin under his fur like disjointed Braille. ‘If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have been able to fight off all the Fearlings. They didn’t follow the deal; they tried to get to the kids! We almost lost  _Jamie_.’

Bunny’s glare shifted between Pitch and Jack, his ears flicked up and alert. His nose twitched as he focused on Pitch again, disgust evident on his face. Pitch smiled, and Bunny jolted him so his head thumped against the wall. He grimaced the moment Pitch’s head collided with it, gritted his teeth like he was in pain. Jack tightened his grip on his arm, silently pleading him to ease back from Pitch, but it was North that got through to him.

‘Bunny, we must be calm,’ he advised. ‘It will not get us far, fighting among ourselves.’

Bunny scowled, said nothing.

‘He helped me, Bunny,’ Jack repeated softly.

‘That doesn’t mean his actions still warrant defence,’ Nightlight said from where he sat by the window, keeping his pale green eyes turned towards the glass without actually looking outside. Jack’s fingers tightened on Bunny’s arm, and Bunny looked down at his hand, raised his eyes to meet Jack’s.

‘Jack-’ he warned, but Jack had already released him and turned towards Nightlight. He could feel everyone's eyes follow him across the room until he stopped several feet away from Nightlight, and leaned on his staff. Nightlight didn’t move, refused to look at Jack, but he gripped his diamond tipped staff a little tighter in his hands as the cold spread from Jack’s crook.

‘Do you have something to say to me, or do you think it might be a better idea to go back to ignoring me?’ Jack demanded. ‘I’m not in the mood to play twenty questions.’

‘You  _defend_  him and you don’t expect questions because of it?’ Nightlight asked, tilting his head till it rested against the glass. ‘He came to you when he left Sandy; he deliberately sought you out instead of leaving this world as he originally intended. Why? Why did he seek you out? Why did he  _help_  you?’

‘Solar eclipse. Makes people do funny things.’

Nightlight whipped round to stare at him in confusion, before he turned to stare up at the sky through the window pane. Belatedly, he realised Jack was mocking him, the sun already set, and he turned with a glare, his cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

Jack smirked, flipping his staff around his hand and resting it over his shoulder. ‘Made you look.’

‘Jack,’ North warned. ‘Nightlight...’

‘I’m defending him because he gave us time to save the world and he helped me save the kids,’ Jack said, ignoring North. ‘He was there when I needed back up. I’d ally myself with him before I’d ask  _you_  for help.’

Nightlight sneered, twisting around in his seat to stand. Jack tensed, the temperature around him dropping as he levelled a glare at Nightlight. ‘He’s actually useful, can you say the same?’

Nightlight sprang to his feet, closed the gap between them till they were toe-to-toe, the diamond atop his staff ablaze with light. Jack didn’t back down, matching Nightlight’s glare as their weapons pulsed with energy. Behind him, Bunny swore and released Pitch. Jack felt the yank on his hoodie as Bunny pulled him back and hauled him around until he stood between him and Nightlight. North stepped up behind Nightlight, and curled a hand around his shoulder, pulling him away from Jack. They pushed against them, trying to break free. Their staffs glowed, the temperature dropping till their breath escaped their lips in clouds of pale mist.

Bunny bore his weight against Jack and pushed him back towards the door, shivering in the plummeting temperature. ‘Jack, leave. Go wanderin’ or fly about for a bit.’

‘You’re sending me away, again?  _Seriously_?’ Jack demanded, his eyes turning to Bunny. His hands curled around his staff till his knuckles were white. ‘What’s the point in me coming back in the  _first_  place?’

‘I’m not sending you away!’ Bunny said, exasperated. He dragged his claws through his fur in frustration. ‘Don’t give me that look… I’m giving the pair of you space away from each other so you don’t try to kill each other and end up doing yersel’s in, or did ya  _both_ forget about North’s house rules?’

Identical scowls pulled at the corners of their mouths, the only evidence Bunny needed to tell him they had. Jack glanced at Nightlight, meeting his glare and considered suggesting the option of taking it outside. Nightlight looked like he was ready to suggest the same thing and Bunny seemed to read his mind, pushing against him a little more firmly. ‘Put ‘em away and zip up yer pants, boys, neither of you are packing what you think you are.’

Jack glared, blinked his eyes and pretended they weren’t beginning to water. He could understand where Bunny was coming from, he could: the frost patterns spiralling across the walls and around his feet were an obvious sign he wasn’t acting rational. He wished he didn’t realise how stupid and petty he was acting, but Nightlight had a way of getting under Jack’s skin and riling him up, and Jack hated it, it was too similar to the affect Pitch had on him and he’d had enough of that itch to last him another three hundred years.

‘Go cool off,’ Bunny repeated. ‘The pair of you, and we’ll deal with whatever problem you both have  _later_.’

‘I don’t need you dealing with my problems, Bunny,’ Jack said before he could stop himself, hoping that he got under Nightlight’s skin the same way he got under Jack’s. He gestured to Nightlight. ‘I certainly don’t need you dealing with  _that_  one.’

‘Bloody hell!  _House_   _rule_!’ Bunny stressed as Nightlight lunged, trying to pull out of North’s grip with fervour. Jack pulled his staff up and pushed forward. Bunny shoved him back with a growl, throwing his arms up between them to keep them apart. It was North that ended the potential death match, slamming his hand against the wall behind him with such a force the whole room seemed to shake. Nightlight flinched and ducked his head down, and even Pitch stopped trying to dislodge the boomerang, his head snapping up and staring at North in shock.

‘That’s enough!’ North snapped, close to shouting but not quite. ‘ _Myaskovsky_ , you are _both_ on naughty list!’

He pointed between the two of them, shutting them up before they could argue. ‘We cannot have squabbles between ourselves when so much is at risk. You will both calm down and  _then_  we discuss matters at hand, am I being clear?’

‘Fine,’ Jack muttered after a heavy pause, throwing his staff over his shoulder and backing away from Bunny. Nightlight simply nodded, and North released him. He returned to where he’d been sitting without another word, pulling his knees up to his chest and staring out across the landscape. Jack pulled his hood up over his head, and buried his hands in the pocket, his fingers brushing Baby Tooth’s curled up form. He refused to look at any of the Guardians, and Bunny sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of him hand.

‘Jack,’ he began, but there was a quick knock on the door and Jack O’Lantern strode into the room.

‘Hey, I – ohmygodits _cold_!’ he exclaimed, jerking to a stop. He wrapped his coat around himself, his breath fogging the air in front of his face. Pumpkin Head squealed in displeasure, looping his vines around him in a similar fashion and scuttling closer to Jack-O’s legs. He glanced around the room at the ice, and smiled nervously, leaning against the door and jamming his hands up under his arms, keeping them warm. ‘Wasn’t expecting this much of a frosty reception.’

Pitch curled his lip in disgust, finally yanking the boomerang free and tossing it onto the table with a clatter. He took a step back to slide into the shadows, but Sandy grabbed the front of his robe, glaring at him. Nightlight rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Jack-O’s poor attempt at a joke and he drew further into himself, wrapping his arms around his body.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jack said coldly, the first to break the silence. ‘I was just  _leaving_.’

He stalked out of the room, refusing to look at any of them as he strode past Jack-O and slammed the door behind him, leaving the room in a tense silence once again.

* 

‘Uh, is this a bad time?’ Jack-O asked, pointing to the door with his thumb. ‘Cause… I can come back later if you want, yeah?’

Sandy shook his head, sand dancing above his head in explanation. Jack-O just stared at him blankly, and Sandy sighed, slapping his hand against his face. The language of the stars had never been a very well-known language outside of those who spoke it. He considered giving lessons in it.

'Did we become the bad guys right now?’ Bunny asked, ignoring Jack-O and turning to North, who looked just as worn down and confused as Bunny. ‘Are we the bad guys in this scenario here?’

North shook his head, unable to answer.

Bunny sighed; he stared at the door Jack had slammed and scratched his neck. Just as Pitch experienced the fears of those around him through sight and sound and smell, the Guardians experienced the world through wonder and hope and dreams. He didn’t know what the world looked like coloured with wonder, or if Sandy only ever saw people as they were in their dreams, but he did know their hopes and when he looked at Jack and Nightlight, he found theirs distinctly lacking. In fact, it was hopelessness that rolled off Jack in waves and Nightlight wasn’t dissimilar, keeping his head down like a petulant teenager. Neither of them were communicating what they felt. They were so similar in personality they were mirror images of each other, except they thought it was a good idea to butt their head against the mirror as hard as they could and hope it didn’t hurt. They hadn’t even cared enough about North’s magic to stop themselves going for each other’s throats.

‘How’re we the bad guys?’ he grumbled.

‘Hmm, I don’t think you are, Bunny-chan,’ Lady Luck said. She pushed away from the wall and flipped the coin in the air, catching it in one hand and glancing at the side up before she slipped it back into the pouch attached to her thigh. She wandered over to the table and slid into the chair at the head of it, reclining back and stretching her arms out. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘But I think you may have been the parents.’

Bunny stared at her in horror, and she laughed. He shook his head and scratched at the scruff on the back of his neck in irritation. Two stubborn teenage boys with superhuman powers at war with each other while the world faced an apocalypse was the last thing he needed to have any sort of responsibility over. ‘Great, next thing you know we’ll be accused o’ playing favourites.’

North exhaled a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he stared at the occupants of the room, before his eyes fell on Nightlight. He approached him while Sandy admonished a bored Pitch and Bunny beckoned Jack-O over to hear what he had to say. They spoke in hushed tones, Jack-O scratching the back of his head apologetically while Bunny listened with an impassive expression. He interrupted once or twice with questions, but otherwise remained quiet. North leaned against the edge of the window seat, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he looked down at the gloomy young man in front of him. Just as there had been a death then, the white haired boy in front of him was mourning, wishing he could’ve done more. North felt the loss heavy in his chest: the world had lost a little bit of wonder, and they were expected to replace it as fast as they could, for the greater good to save everyone’s lives. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it down.

‘Nightlight, I know you are hurting,’ he began. Nightlight didn’t move, didn’t give any indication that he was listening. ‘To take hurt out on others is not like you. You have never had trouble meeting new Guardians before, what is wrong now, with Jack?’

Nightlight pressed his lips tight together, pushing his forehead harder against the cool glass. North waited patiently for him to speak, but Nightlight had fallen silent, glaring at his knees with a scowl. North knew he wouldn’t tell them what was on his mind. Instead Nightlight pushed himself up, and marched past the Guardians, past Pitch and Jack-O and yanked open the door Jack had exited moments ago. He turned to look back at the Guardians one last time, his face unreadable, before he slammed it shut. A stack of books sitting on the table near it toppled, crashing to the floor.

Bunny sighed, rubbing his eyes. ‘Definitely the bad guy.’

‘The parent, Bunny-chan,’ Lady Luck corrected, grinning.

‘Ya know what, in that case, go to yer room if ya don’t have anything useful t’ add,’ Bunny snapped, pointing to the door.

‘Can I drop by yours on the way?’

‘ _Out_!’

She stretched her arms above her head, laughing, and pushed herself to her feet gracefully. Throwing a wink at Bunny, and nodding to North and Jack-O as she passed them, she sauntered out of the room with a lazy wave. ‘I’ll be waiting, Bunny-chan.’

‘No you won’t,’ he muttered as she swung the door shut.

‘So, um, is there anything else you need me to do?’ Jack-O asked, and Bunny shook his head, waving him away. He took the hint and scarpered out the door, Pumpkin Head in tow. Bunny would relay the message to the others as soon as they had calmed down enough to be in same room together.

They lapsed into silence once again, until Pitch pulled himself away from Sandy, rolling his neck till it cricked and straightened his robes. The dream weaver still glared at him from where he floated, the curved squiggle of a whip bobbing above his head in a blatant threat. Pitch just smiled and rubbed the back of his head where it had struck the wall.

‘Well, as pleasant as this little get together has been, I think I’ve had enough of your company to last me some time,’ he said, clasping his hands behind his back and turning on his heel to slide back into the shadows in the wall.

‘Stay in workshop, Pitch,’ North ordered before he could disappear. Pitch looked over his shoulder, studying the old Guardian: his face twisted into a frown, staring at the Pitch with a coldness that did not become him. There were dark smudges under his eyes, much like the one’s Pitch bore, and there were more lines around the corners, his brow perpetually furrowed with weariness. He looked more and more like a man worn down by life with each passing day. Pitch nodded before he slid into the shadows housed in the workshop: some fights just weren’t worth the effort.

*****

‘Hey Jack! Jack!’

Jack paused half way down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder as Jack-O loped down the stairs two at a time, Pumpkin Head trailing at his ankles. Jack turned away and wiped his eyes quickly as the Halloween spirit drew level with him, grinning behind his mask.

‘A’right lad, how’s it going?’

‘Couldn’t you tell?’ Jack muttered as he continued down the stairs. Jack-O followed him, falling into step beside him.

‘Yeah, that looked like fun,’ Jack-O chuckled. If he saw Jack’s tears, he said nothing about them.

‘So, how about we find some more, yeah?’ he suggested when Jack didn’t answer him, swinging his staff up over his shoulder. ‘Wanna come hang out with me?’

‘Thanks, Jack-O, but I don’t think-‘

‘Come  _on_ , it’ll be grand,’ Jack-O interrupted. ‘Asides, I promised t’ introduce you t’ some spirits, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Jack said reluctantly. ‘The one’s who’d want to meet me?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Jack-O confirmed. ‘I  _promise_  you won’t regret it.’

Jack raised an eyebrow, but Jack-O said no more, beckoning him to follow as he hopped down the steps. Jack paused, uncertain.

‘Why do they want to meet me so bad?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

‘Ah, can’t tell you that, it’ll ruin the surprise,’ Jack-O replied. He offered up one hand for Jack to take, and Jack looked between it and the easy smile on Jack-O’s face. Jack-O waited for him to come to a decision, the smile unwavering on his face despite Jack’s hesitance. Nothing seemed to faze him: not Rumpelstiltskin or the Fearlings or the Guardians. He’d cracked a joke as soon as he’d realised what he’d stepped into in the meeting room between Nightlight and Jack; had made Jack jump right after the Fearling attack, just looking to have fun and keep things interesting for himself. Jack couldn’t deny it appealed to his own centre of fun, gravitating towards the mischief maker even now when Jack-O could be ready to lead him anywhere.

He reached out and took Jack-O’s hand, and they were off like a shot, Jack-O pulling him behind as they sped down the corridors.

It would’ve helped, of course, if Jack-O had any idea of where he was actually trying to take them. After the fifth double-back, Jack had started to laugh, amused by Jack-O’s growing frustration as he tried to navigate the halls.

‘You could ask a yeti for directions?’ Jack suggested. Jack-O pulled a face.

‘Those things? Nah, I value all my limbs where they are,’ he replied, pulling Jack down another corridor.

‘You could just tell me where we’re going, you know, if you don’t want to ask someone,’ Jack said, and Jack-O sighed, giving up on the attempt to take the lead.

‘Okay, I’m trying to get us t’ the kitchens.’

Jack grinned: the kitchens had been the first thing he had scouted out back when he had tried to break in. It had also brought him face to face with the yetis for the first time, and they hadn’t needed to throw him out, Jack bolting after one look at them.

‘There’s a staircase along here, go right down to the bottom and along the corridor,’ Jack said, nodding along the passageway. ‘You either go left or right at the end, I can’t quite remember. You’ll smell it, anyway.’

‘Sweet! Onwards!’

They did indeed smell the aromas rolling out of the kitchens before they found them, the air oversaturated with spices and herbs, the sizzling flavours of meat and roasting vegetables, rich sauces thick in the air. It made Jack’s mouth water, and Jack-O obviously shared his appreciation for the North Pole’s cuisine, inhaling a deep breath as they passed the main kitchens. ‘Man, you’ve got one hell of a set up here, bein’ a Guardian. What I wouldn’t give t’ have grub that smells like that every night.’

‘I don’t live here,’ Jack said, losing his smile as his gaze grew distant and pensive. ‘I actually haven’t been here in years.’

Jack-O stared at him, aghast, and Jack just shrugged.

‘You’re bloody mental,’ was all he said, and he continued to pull Jack down the corridor. ‘Now, where’re the smaller kitchens at?’

He managed to find what he was looking for, dragging Jack into one that probably got used for coffee breaks by the yetis, if they had them. It wouldn’t look out of place in a family home, with dark cherry cabinets and brightly polished appliances, a kettle resting on the gently burning stove. It was twice as tall as it was wide, the high ceiling held up by old wooden beams that had been smoothed down over time. Large windows allowed an incredible view of the clear, cloudless night outside the workshop, the stars crowding the inky blue sky. A long island jutted out from the counter into the centre of the room, high stools clustered around it and occupied by three young women: two on stools either side of the island, and one sitting cross legged on the counter itself. They were sharing a plate of cookies between themselves, their hands wrapped around steaming mugs as they chatted. The girl sitting on the counter caught sight of them with large, dark brown eyes, and grinned around the cookie she had bit into, waving and drawing her companion’s attentions to the two boys.

‘A’ight, Jack-O! What took ya so long? Who’s this ya brought along? Don’t tell me it’s who I think it is?’ she said, swallowing the cookie with a grin and hopped off the counter.

‘Ask and ye shall receive, fair lady,’ Jack-O joked as she sauntered over to him and pulled him into a hug. She pulled away and set her sights on Jack, eyeing him up and down, one hand resting on the swell of her cocked hip. She was half a foot shorter than Jack, with warm tawny brown skin dusted heavily with freckles. She dressed in similar colours as Jack-O: dark greens and browns and oranges that complimented the explosion of scarlet red curls haloing her acorn shaped face, kept at bay by a thick band encircling her head. She smiled, more a cocky smirk than anything and went to speak when her friend – a petite blonde in pastel green robes with damp hair, a penchant for flowers and large forget-me-not eyes that constantly darted between Jack-O and Jack – bounced out of her chair, and continued to bounce on the balls of her bare feet as she approached them.

‘Jack-O! Jack-O is it really him? Oh, it must be him, I’ve seen him sometimes! I recognise the hoodie! Oh gosh, it’s him,’ she gabbled, flapping her hands excitedly, almost slapping the third girl in the face as she joined their huddle around Jack.

She had dark umber skin and had her long, silky black hair braided down her back. She looked like she was ready for an adventure, a brown canvas bag fastened to her back, the strap cutting across her chest diagonally, creasing her bright yellow tank top. She had skinned knees and elbows, but the grin pulling at the corners of her thin lips matched her two friends, her bright hazel eyes lighting up with excitement.

‘Been waiting a long time to meet you, Jack,’ she said, extending a hand out to him. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally get the chance, despite the circumstances.’

‘It’s nice to meet you too,’ he replied. He reached for her hand, only to yank it back with a yelp as fire coursed up his arm, ignited on his palm.

He shook his hand frantically, blowing on it so a layer of ice crystals formed on the surface to cool the burn. Her skin was hot – scorching to the point of pain - to touch compared to his freezing temperature. The reverse effect on her was obvious too, as she rubbed her palm to warm it back up, blowing into her cupped hands until he was sure he saw smoke rise from between her fingers. Goose bumps rose on her arm from the remaining chill.

‘I’m so sorry! Are you okay?’ Jack asked, holding his reddened hand close to his chest in a fist.

‘Yes, yes, I’m alright,’ she said, grimacing. She gave her hand one more shake. ‘I’m so sorry. I should’ve realised that, given who we are.’

‘I, um, yeah,’ he replied, awkward. Jack-O noticed, sliding up beside him and looping an arm around his shoulders.

‘Now, ladies, ladies, don’t crowd Jack here,’ he said. ‘It’s always polite to officially introduce yourselves, yeah?’

Jack shifted, hyper aware that his ignorance must be apparent on his face when they stared at him inquisitively. Jack-O gestured to the three young women, squeezing Jack’s shoulders supportively.

‘Jack, I’d like you to meet April Showers, Summer Sun, and Autumn Breeze,’ he said, glancing at Jack out the corner of his eye. ‘They’re Season spirits, like you. As a matter of fact, they’re the  _only_  spirits who are like you: the Heralds of their respective Season. So I guess, in a weird way, that makes you family. Surprise!’

‘Family?’ Jack repeated, pushing his hood down and staring at the three girls in turn, recalling Mother Nature using the word "Herald" when she had snapped at him.

'Yeah, man, thought I was gonna have ta sneak you away just to get you guys in the same place,' Jack-O said, looping his arm around Jack's shoulders and clapping his chest. 'But guess we got lucky and these losers actually joined the party.'

Autumn rolled her eyes, punching Jack-O in the shoulder and cocked her head up, her smirk growing wider. Summer smiled and nodded her head minutely as an introduction and April waved in greeting. A strange warmth bloomed in Jack's chest, recognising something in the girls that he had himself, puzzle pieces slotting together and showing a full picture. ‘I-’

There was a whistle, and shifting in his pocket, and Baby Tooth crawled out of his pocket and flitted into the air, looking around to figure out where Jack had brought them. The three Heralds and Jack-O stared at her in amazement, recognising her bright plumage and small size instantly as one of the tooth faeries.

‘Oh, is that-?’ April Showers asked, tucking her damp blonde hair behind her ears as she stared at Baby Tooth.

‘This is Baby Tooth,’ he introduced, and she whirled round at the sound of her name, studying the three girls curiously. ‘Baby Tooth, these are other Season spirits… April, Summer and Autumn.’

Baby Tooth cooed and flew over to the three girls, circling April first before zipping close to her face. April jerked back in surprise, cross eyed as she watched the faerie hover in front of her mouth, trying to pry her lips apart.

‘Uh, Ja’?’ she garbled as Baby Tooth poked at her incisors.

‘It’s fine, she’s just checking your dental hygiene.’

‘Ma den’al hygee isth grea!’ she protested, pink blotches forming on her round cheeks. Baby Tooth released her, and patted her bright cheeks in satisfaction. April blushed, covering her lips with her hands shyly as Baby Tooth moved onto Summer, who grinned without preamble, showing off two straight rows of white teeth. Baby Tooth pushed at the corners of her mouth, and squeaked in distress at the sight of one of her premolars.

‘Really?’ Summer asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘You’re upset over one little chipped tooth?’

Baby Tooth squeaked affirmative, wagging her finger at the spirit. Summer chuckled, holding her hands up in surrender.

‘Okay, okay, I promise I'll take better care,’ she said.

Baby Tooth nodded, accepting her promise with a sceptical frown before she turned to Autumn, who had pressed her lips tight together into a thin line. Baby Tooth squeaked at her, and she shook her head.

‘Best show her, or she’ll never leave you alone,’ Jack said, leaning against the kitchen counter. Autumn shook her head, red curls bouncing around her face, and clamped her gloved hands over her mouth. Baby Tooth pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot on air.

‘Nah-ah, y’ll get mad at me,’ she mumbled from behind her hands. Baby Tooth squeaked again, pulling at her fingers to pry them away from her face. Jack shared a grin with Jack-O as he wandered up beside Jack, Pumpkin Head crawling up into his arms.

‘Yeah, Baby Tooth,’ Jack-O cheered. ‘You show her who’s boss.’

April and Summer giggled from the other side of Autumn as she ducked and dodged Baby Tooth flitting around her head. The red head glared at them, keeping her hands firmly pressed against her mouth.

Jack-O chuckled and winked at Jack. ‘Watch this.’

He shifted Pumpkin Head in his arms so he was facing Autumn, his vines looping around in front of him like a targeting scope. ‘Hey,  _Autumn._ ’

‘Don’tcha dare, Jack-O!’

‘I think I dare!’ he crowed, heaving Pumpkin Head back. ‘ _Catch_!’

The others laughed as Autumn screamed, her arms flying out to catch Pumpkin Head. Baby Tooth took the opportunity to zoom in and take a look at her teeth before she clamped her mouth shut again, Pumpkin Head gathered in her arms. Baby Tooth squealed and dropped from the air in faint, landing on Pumpkin Head. He wrapped vines around her, fanning her with a leaf.

‘I told ya wouldn’t like whatcha saw,’ Autumn said to Baby Tooth, who slowly pulled herself up, fanning herself weakly. Jack chuckled, jogging over and scooped her up in his hands.

‘You okay, Baby Tooth?’ he asked, and she shook her head as she sat on the palm of his hand. He looked up at Autumn, who wore a look of embarrassment and guilt and stubbornness all rolled into one as she hugged Pumpkin Head close.

‘Don’t tell me,’ Jack said. ‘You’ve got-’

‘I’s his fault,’ Autumn defended quickly, nodding towards Jack-O. ‘He’s the one who’s always ‘plying me wi’ Halloween candy. Blame him!’

‘No one forced you to eat it,’ Jack-O snickered. Autumn stuck her tongue out at him.

‘I gotta keep my sugar levels up, gives me energy chasing after you!’ she retorted, setting Pumpkin Head back on the floor. He skittered away from her and she straightened, frowning at the spot on the floor she had put him as she pulled a curl of hair around her finger, twirling it. ‘It’s not that bad... is it?’

Jack cocked his head to the side, and looked to Baby Tooth. She held up three fingers, her arm locked straight as she pushed them forward. The findings was clearly dire to her.

‘Three fillings?’ Jack asked. He pulled a face, shrugging. ‘That’s not too bad.’

Baby Tooth squeaked again, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling up at Jack. He offered her a lopsided smile. ‘Whoops, I mean, not good?’

Another unimpressed squeak, before she jumped into the air and turning to face Autumn, wagging her finger and shaking her head in reprimand.

‘Huh, guess no more of North’s secret stash for you?’ Jack said. Autumn stuck her tongue out at him, and the others giggled.

‘If I’m not getting any more sugar,’ Autumn said. ‘He’s not getting any more. You think the spirit of Halloween is any better?’

She pointed to Jack-O, who threw his hands up in innocence. ‘I don’t know what you’re- uh, uh oh.’

At the mention of the word Halloween, Baby Tooth’s sights were set on Jack-O, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she flew over to him. He stepped back, retreating.

‘Seriously, there’s nothing of interest you want to see here,’ he said, hands still raised, pursued by Baby Tooth. ‘Nope, nothing at all, nothing that would remotely be of any consequence to you what so ever – Jack, help!’

‘Run, Jack-O, run!’ Autumn cackled. Summer laughed and linked her arm through Jack’s, careful not to touch his skin and she pulled him over to the table to join them while Jack-O had to contend with Baby Tooth.

* 

High above in the rafters, unnoticed by the five spirits, Nightlight leaned against one of the support beams. His eyes were trained on Jack, studying him as he integrated seamlessly into the group around him. He wondered if that was just because of their similar natures. Jack, as he had said himself, “took winter wherever he went”, and the same applied to the three young women around him, although they had better sense, and better control, than to invade the other Seasons. It was far too dangerous, when each held inside them the power of their Season.

April heralded in Spring against Winter’s harsh chill, announcing the May Queen’s conquest to take over where Old Man Winter had once ruled. She would be followed by her Green Knight who ruled until Summer Sun’s burning heat warned of the Summer Queen’s arrival to overthrow his control and allow her Summer King to reign. The same pattern was followed by Autumn, and Jack should mark the Snow Queen’s arrival to start the cycle all over again, but he did not follow them as was nature.

Nightlight could not understand Jack’s blasé attitude towards his role as a Winter Spirit – as  _the_  Winter Spirit, the Herald - disrupting the push and turn of the world. The Seasons were never supposed to meet within the midst of one another’s time to rule, forever kept apart on opposite sides of the world with each rotation around the sun. Only an emergency such as the one they faced would allow the four Heralds to meet if the need was absolutely dire. Nightlight couldn't understand how the need had become so great in such a short time, after Mother Nature demanded Jack focus on his Herald duties. The Seasons were ruthless and bloodthirsty, however they claimed to be brothers and sisters under Mother Nature, and all four Heralds together risked them clashing. The queens, in particular, were exceptionally ruthless, and every time Jack stepped into the middle of another Season, it allowed the Snow Queen a footing in it to come face to face with the kings, or much worse, the other queens.

And Tsar Lunar had made him a Guardian, to protect the children of the world.

Nightlight shook his head, unable to see the reasoning behind the Tsar’s choice. Surely he had known the implications of such a choice? What had been his reasoning behind his choice when there was – literally – a world of spirits out there who would be capable of being a Guardian? More than capable, and many of whom had a good relationship with the Guardians and the Man in the Moon.

Like Nightlight.

It was not jealousy that burned through Nightlight, he refused to name it that. He did not covet power or care for status; he did not wish to be liked or even noticed, happy to remain on the side-lines and do his job, and do it well, protecting and helping his loved ones when they needed him. But he had failed one of them in the worst possible way, and the others had turned away from him with the arrival of this young, new “fun” spirit. He pressed his hand over his heart, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply as pain throbbed in his chest.

Jack was ice and frost first, though, his freezing chill invading every room he entered. It crawled up Nightlight’s skin and set him on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the first icy breath. Jack held all the harshness and cruelty of winter inside him, ready to be unleashed at any moment. Nightlight remembered the fractured ice that enveloped the Fearling before golden sand finished it off, the cracking frost lightening that had shot from the shepherds crook during their discussion over the memories. It had earned a grin from Pitch, clearly wanting to disrupt their discussion and Jack had happily obliged to draw attention to himself with such a grandiose display of power.

He dropped his hand to his side, wrinkling his nose as he watched Jack: how could they all accept him so easily as a Guardian? The cold was no one’s friend, except for perhaps one.

‘Having fun?’ a voice crooned from the shadows. Nightlight whirled around, staff raised as Pitch slid out of the darkness behind him, a cold smile on his face. He approached Nightlight with a predatory elegance, his luminous, unblinking golden eyes boring into Nightlight’s.

Nightlight glowered as Pitch tapped the tips of his fingers along the diamond blade holding Moonbeam, sliding his index finger down the length of staff. He paused, holding Nightlight’s gaze, before he flicked the staff away. Nightlight jerked it right back to where he had held it, the tip of the blade pointing at Pitch’s throat. Pitch glanced at it before his gaze returned to Nightlight’s, a slow grin spreading across his face.

‘You wonder why he was chosen as a Guardian, and not you?’ He nodded towards Jack, squashed between Autumn and Jack-O around the island. Pitch sneered at the sight of the Halloween Spirit, before he looked back to Nightlight.

Nightlight avoided his gaze, forgetting how perceptive Pitch could be of someone’s fears. He thought he had tighter control over his, that he had kept them well hidden, but nothing seemed to escape Pitch.

‘Come now,’ Pitch murmured, cocking his head to one side. ‘How long did we share that darkness? You think I don’t know you better than anyone else? I’d be able to tell your fears from the other side of the world if I needed to.’

Nightlight shook his head, turning away from Pitch and stared down at the Heralds, hoping to ignore him. Pitch remained though, and closed the gap between them till Nightlight could feel him hovering at his shoulder, his shadow enveloping him, suffocating him as they watched Jack and his new friends. He refused to step away, even as fear rose up his throat and choked him, his skin feeling too tight with Pitch at his back.

‘Do you want to know why he was chosen, despite being the Spirit of Winter?’ Pitch asked, sensitive to Nightlight’s reaction. ‘Despite all this unrefined power that, quite frankly, is dangerous for anyone to be exposed to, especially children, why was he considered the better candidate than you?’

Nightlight stared ahead, refusing to rise to the bait.

‘You used to chase the darkness away, whenever it drew too close to the children,’ Pitch whispered, leaning over till his mouth was level with Nightlight’s ear, his breath ghosting over the shell of it. Nightlight tightened his grip on his staff, rigid and unmoving.

‘But it would always come back, and they’d always be terrified,’ Pitch pushed on, relentless. ‘They’d always be waiting for someone to come and rescue them, but Jack... Jack showed them how to face the oncoming darkness and  _laugh_  about it. With him, they faced their fears and now, unfortunately, are a lot more difficult to scare.’

He tilted his head so he could look at Nightlight, watching to see if his stony expression would crack. ‘Fun can overcome fear, Nightlight, but a broken light is useless against the dark.’

Nightlight drove his elbow back into Pitch’s stomach, spinning around and pushing him away. His eyes burned, his mouth set into a hard scowl as Pitch laughed at him.  _I’m not broken._

Pitch’s gaze became unfocused, the pupils dancing to and fro around Nightlight, and Nightlight knew he was reading his fears. He tried not to shiver as Pitch pried open and looked into every dark part of him even as he clamped down on his emotions. The grin on Pitch’s face was feral as he locked eyes with Nightlight once again in the shadows under the roof.

‘Not broken?’ he mused. ‘Of course not, I’m sure once this is over to you’ll carry on your merry way, skipping across cloud-paths and bridges over canyons made of pure light. I’m sure you’ll welcome the new Mother Goose with open arms, wait intently by her side for new stories penned by a different hand with different words. You won’t resent her, or shun her, or think ill of her every time you see in the place of your dearest, darling Katherine.’

Nightlight raised his staff, eyes ablaze, ready to strike when a loud, jarring  _crow_  pierced the air, and the two spirits jerked back, trying to find where the noise was coming from. Below them, Jack looked just as confused while Jack-O leapt up and flew to the window, cheering his own poor imitation of the call.

* 

‘What  _is_  that?’ Jack asked, covering his ears with his hands. The sisters did the same, but they grinned despite the grating squawk. Jack looked to the window where Jack-O stood; arms open as a blur of yellow and green and brown sped in through the window and almost knocked him off his feet. A glowing ball of light – similar to the one’s Nightlight had sent out – bounced in after him, and Jack looked between it and the newcomer Jack-O had his arms wrapped around.

The boy was tiny, about a foot shorter than Jack with wild blonde hair and bright red cheeks. He wore a mix match array of clothes: a green tunic with a ragged hem and neckline, a baggy oversized shirt and ripped brown trousers, tucked into the boots strapped haphazardly to his calves by leather binding. They were similar to the strips keeping the material wrapped around his arms in place over fingerless gloves, and feathers stuck out at all angles from his hair where he’d braided them in.

‘Jack! Jack the lad, I’m so happy this guy caught up in time!’ Jack-O said breathlessly, a wide grin splitting his face as he ushered the younger boy forward. ‘This is my main man Peter Pan, mischief-maker extraordinaire. Second to me of course.’

‘Seriously?’ Jack gasped, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he stared at the young blond boy. There went that myth out the window, or in the window, depending how you viewed it. ‘Peter Pan as in – Neverland and the lost boys and faith and trust and-’

‘And pixie dust!’ Peter Pan finished. ‘Peter Pan, that’s me! Leader of the Lost Boys, defender of Neverland and victor against the most feared, most blood thirsty pirate of them all: Captain Hook!’

‘It’s, uh, nice to meet you,’ Jack said finally.

‘Yes it is!’ Peter said, grinning as he back-flipped through the air onto the kitchen counter, standing akimbo as he looked down at them, puffing his chest out. ‘Who wouldn’t want to meet me? I’m the cleverest and the bravest in the whole wide world!’

‘Uh… yeah,’ Jack said, sharing a look with Baby Tooth. She shrugged, studying Peter curiously. She wondered if she could get close enough to see his teeth.

Peter crouched down on the counter across from them, studying them curiously.

‘Who’re you?’ he asked, resting his chin on an open hand, his elbow propped up on his knee.

‘This is Jack Frost,’ Autumn replied, plucking a cookie from the plate when Baby Tooth wasn’t looking. ‘He’s a Herald, like us, and that is Baby Tooth on his shoulder. She’s a tooth faerie!’

‘I have a faerie friend too!’ Peter said excitedly. As if on cue, the light that had followed him in skittered around the heads of the occupants in the room, before bouncing to a stop in front of Jack and Baby Tooth. They could clearly see the tiny figure of a woman emitting the light, her opalescent skin shining like she was covered in glitter.

‘Who is-?’ Jack began, though he could guess before Peter even announced it.

‘That’s Tinkerbell! She’s my faerie friend!’

‘Cool!’ Jack said, studying her as she mimicked his movements, their heads tilting back and forth in unison, leaning closer and pulling away in perfect sync. Jack grinned, bowing his head to her. ‘Hi there, Tinkerbell.’

She curtsied low to him, a coy smile on her face. On Jack’s shoulder, Baby Tooth glared.

‘At least that’s one faerie who’ll help in the search for a new Goose!’ Peter added, jumping from the counter to the island, though he did not land. Instead he hovered in mid-air upside down, his legs folded beneath him and he reached for a handful of cookies over Autumn’s head. ‘Hook and his pirates will be joining the search too, the Jolly Roger has already left port!’

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion, turning away from Tinkerbell to stare at Peter.

‘Hook is helping? I thought you guys were enemies?’ he asked.

‘Yep,’ Peter said, taking a bite out of his first cookie. ‘Well, Wednesday’s till Saturday’s anyway. Sunday’s are our day off, see, and we all have dinner together. On Mondays and Tuesdays we explore Neverland, sometimes Tiger Lilly comes along, and make plans for the week ahead, and it all comes down to the battle on Saturday, where I emerge triumphant from a fight to the death with Hook!’

He mimicked a sword fight with one hand, parrying and thrusting his make believe sword through the air.

Jack, still confused, looked to Jack-O for an explanation. Jack-O laughed, indulging him.

‘It’s all a game,’ he explained. ‘On Neverland, it’s all just one big elaborate game. It’s that whole balance thing Rumpelstiltskin said, and Neverland needs Peter and Hook for it to keep its balance.’

‘Oh,’ Jack said. He shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Rumpelstiltskin and the world off balance. Hearing that such a legendary icon and his arch nemesis had come to terms with each other and lived in peace – however convoluted their setup might be – caused an uneasy twisting in his gut, thinking about the Guardian’s relationship with Pitch. The five biggest names in a child’s life, and they had been out to destroy each other for the longest time.

‘Yeah, shame Tinkerbell is the only faerie helping, though,’ Jack-O added, leaning against the counter. ‘That’ll be a knock to the numbers.’

'Hey, bringing us into help more than makes up for it,' Autumn said, flicking crumbs at him and winking at Jack. Jack chuckled behind closed lips, then blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion when he registered Jack-O’s words.

‘Wait, what?’ he asked, turning to face him. ‘What do you mean?’

Jack-O said nothing, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, refusing to meet his eye. Jack hopped off his stool and strode around the island to stand beside him, grabbing his shoulder when he tried to step away. ‘Jack-O?’

‘Yeah, about that thing I was telling the Guardians,’ he said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Sorry, I should’ve left it for them to say but… I have somewhat good relations with the Fae, y’know? Being mischief and what not, so I got sent to see if they had a strategy or something since this is, like, dire, yeah? World ending. Or just wanted to make their demands clear for their aid… cause Fae don’t help for nothing, yeah? Figured they just needed bribed or something but uh, yeah, they’re... they’re off.’

‘Off?’ Jack repeated. Jack-O nodded.

‘Yeah, they’re not gonna help. Figure they’ll take the head start an- hey, hey, wait a minute, where you goin’? Jack!’

Jack was already gone, bolting down the corridors back the way he came, Baby Tooth zooming after him. Peter looked around at the four spirits, who shared a look between themselves.

‘What’s his problem?’ he asked around a mouthful of cookie.


	13. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time's up for the head start

Jack barrelled down the hallways, Baby Tooth right behind him as he made his way back up to the room he had last seen the Guardians. Retracing his steps from memory, he skidded down the corridors and around corners on the ice he had laid down, thinking of all the faerie tales he knew. How many stories did humans have of the Fae? How many of them were true? He thought of all the stories his elders back in the village had taught them: he could name all the Fae and their favourite places to meet and dance and lure people away from the safety of their village before he could tie his shoelaces. Admittedly that took him far too long to learn and by the time he had, he deemed it a useless skill and promptly given up on footwear except for when the winter was really bad. Still, the sheer number of Fae could create an army of itself against the Fearlings, find Mother Goose within days and save them all.

The door was open when he arrived at it, and a quick glance inside told him it was empty, and he shot off down the corridor again, leaping over the balustrade down to the lower levels and back into the main hubbub of the workshop. Baby Tooth flew overhead as he landed on the balls of his feet and pushed his way through the crowd of spirits, trying to find the Guardians amongst them. Baby Tooth squeaked from up in the air, and he craned his neck to look up at her. She shook her head. The Guardians were nowhere to be seen.

Jack gritted his teeth, his thumbnail jammed between them as he tried to figure out where to go next. He turned and sped back the way he came, pushing through the spirits again and dashed up onto the higher levels.

He skidded to a halt outside North’s study and threw himself inside without pause. ‘North! I – oh.’

He stopped short, registering another’s presence in the study, and Mother Nature looked up at him with a pinched scowl. He glanced between her and the three Guardians occupying North’s study. Sandy hovered between Mother Nature and North, who stood leaning against his desk. Bunny sat crouched on top of it at North’s back, his arms stretched out across his knees, rolling a paintbrush in his fingers. He twisted his head round and back to look over North’s shoulder.

‘Sorry,’ Jack said, taking a step back. ‘I just needed to see North…’

‘Jack, come in, come in,’ North said, beckoning him inside. He looked between Mother Nature and the Guardians once more before he closed the door and wandered over to them, stepping over the clutter scattered across the floor. It looked like someone had just dumped the contents of the room on the floor and hadn’t tidied up after themselves. Even the desk stood at an unusual angle, the worn out dents in the floor showing where it once sat.

‘You alright, now, Frostbite?’ Bunny asked, cocking his head to the side.

‘Uh, yeah, I gue- ow!’ he gasped, pulling his foot up when something sharp dug into it. Looking down, he saw a chess piece poking out from underneath some papers, and glared at it. He kicked it out of the way, rubbing the sole of his foot against his leg before he turned back to North.

‘North, Jack-O said something about the Fae Courts. He said they weren’t-’

‘The Fae are not assisting us?’ Nightlight demanded, bursting through the door and rushing into the room. He stopped short when he saw Jack, glaring at him. Jack glared back with narrowed eyes.

‘How did you know that?’ he asked. Nightlight didn’t answer, folding his arms across his chest and raising his eyebrows, meeting Jack’s stare with a deliberate blank one.

‘Oh boy,’ Bunny muttered, rolling his eyes and slipped his paintbrush into his bandoleer as he hopped off the desk.

‘It’s fine, Bunny,’ Jack said, purposefully looking away from Nightlight and holding up his hands to Bunny, stopping him in his tracks. ‘It’s fine, but the Fae…?

‘Is true,’ North confirmed, shuffling around his desk and sinking into the chair. He leaned back, rubbing his eyes. ‘Legends say they have ways of shutting their gateways between human world and ours. It is believed that beyond this realm lies another, solely for their inhabitancy and does not bend to rules and ways of this world. It seems legends are true, and they believe they will be safe there.’

‘Will they?’ Jack asked. North shrugged.

‘The Fae have always been secretive, they do not share their ways and knowledge willingly, nor their strength,’ he said with a sigh. ‘If they wish to leave, there is nothing we can do.’

‘Can’t someone do _something_? To change their minds?’ he asked. He turned to Mother Nature.

‘Why not convince them?’ he asked, close to pleading. ‘They’d listen to you.’

‘I cannot,’ she said, and turned away from him. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, his grip tight on his staff.

‘Can’t, or won’t?’ he shot back without thinking. He immediately regretted it when she whirled back round to face him, her face changing and twisting in appearance until Jack could not bear to look at her directly. She dominated the room, the walls closing in until he felt he was in a space no bigger than a coffin.

‘Jack!’

‘I’m sorry!’ he apologised, stepping close to North and dropping his gaze to the floor, trying to appear repentant. ‘I am sorry.’

‘Mother Nature…’                                                                                                

‘Both, Jack Frost,’ Mother Nature said, speaking over Bunny. Power rolled off her in waves, electrifying the air. Jack skin tingled with it, his hair crackling with static in the growing darkness of her shadow as it swallowed the room and its inhabitants. ‘I will not trap anyone here who does not wish to be here. I will help, or I will hinder, but I cannot enforce my choices upon those that are outside my domain, however close they tread to it.’

As she spoke, she seemed to shrink on herself, returning to normal. Her shadow retreated, the earth stopped shaking. Her hair smoothed down her back in delicate curled wisps, the hem of her robes brushing the floor around her heeled boots. She rested her hands on her hips, staring at him coldly. 'I do however, govern the seasons and have called in the other Heralds to join the search, but mark my words: if any of you bring your Seasons together and set off a war between the monarchs, I will remove you from existence myself.'

Jack kept his gaze down, bouncing his staff against the floor, and bit his tongue against asking her if she could really do that. Even if she couldn't, he doubted he'd survive her attempt. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looked up at North when he realised it was him. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, knowing how pathetic he sounded. He could feel Nightlight staring at him, and felt worse.

‘It is alright, Jack,’ North said. ‘Very stressful situation, with added problem of Fae not helping.’

‘They’re just going to leave?’ Jack asked. 'But there’s so many of them who could help.’

‘They’re idiots,’ Bunny said, and Jack flinched, automatically glancing around the room. Never insult the Fae: that’s what he’d always been taught. With his memories back, old superstitions returned as well, making him more cautious of what lurked unseen in plain sight.

‘Then they’d fit right in, if they stayed,’ Pitch said, making Jack and Nightlight jump as he emerged from the shadows, smiling.

‘If ye’ve got nothing helpful to say, Pitch, shut yer mug,’ Bunny snapped. Pitch smirked, cocking an eyebrow.

‘It may not be helpful, but it’s definitely worth remembering, or not, depending on how it turns out.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Mother Nature demanded. Pitch’s smile widened.

‘Check the time,’ he said, nodding to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. ‘Because while the Fae have been getting their head start, you’ve wasted yours. Twenty four hours was the deal, and he always collects.’

‘You have got to be-’ Jack began, when a violent shriek tore through his mind and a rush of dizziness rolled over him, and he clutched his head as the world tipped around him. He grabbed hold of the edge of the desk, and felt a hand wrap around his arm, steadying him. He couldn’t see through the haze that had descended over his vision, a grey fog that shrouded everything in his sight. The nausea rushing through him felt like it would go on forever, trying to pull his stomach up through his throat.

It must only have lasted a few seconds before the world tipped back and righted itself, his headache dissipating as he looked around at the others.

That was a mistake, his head spinning, and he leaned against the desk for stability, his breathing laboured and shallow. North dropped his hand away, burying his face in his large hands and dropping heavily into the chair behind him with a muted groan. Bunny rubbed his temples, his eyes squeezed shut while Sandy lay down on his sand cloud, one arm draped over his eyes as he recovered. Nightlight and Mother Nature looked ill, leaning against the wall or on their staff respectively, their breathing audible in the silence of the room. Pitch leaned against the wall, arms wrapped around his waist: out of all of them, he looked the least affected.

‘Jack,’ Bunny said suddenly, and Jack looked over to him.

‘Yeah Bunny?’ he said, his mouth stuffed with cotton. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge it when Bunny looked up at him, and Jack saw something like fear in his eyes, before he turned to North.

‘Jack, North, Sandy,’ he listed, looking at each of them in turn. ‘Nightlight... Tooth, away in her palace. Mother Nature, Pitch.’

He went quiet as he started mouthing other names under his breath, closing his eyes to concentrate. Sandy was raising each finger on his hands, symbols jumping above his head as he reeled off everyone he could remember. Mother Nature seemed to be doing the same, looking at each of them in turn. Nightlight and North were completely silent, going through their own mental lists when Jack realised he knew all of them, he hadn’t forgotten any of them – even Pitch, who had a look of horror on his face.

‘Pitch? Pitch, what’s wrong?’ he asked, and the others turned to the Bogeyman in concern.

‘No,’ he said quietly, eyes wide as he clutched at his robes. ‘No, this can’t be... I can’t...’

‘Oh no, Pitch, what happened?’ Jack couldn’t bare the idea of anyone losing memories, even Pitch, his heart wrenching in his chest as Pitch looked up at them so forlornly Jack couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He pushed himself up from the desk and took a shaky step towards Pitch, his voice gentle. ‘Pitch, I’m so sorry. What... who  _can_  you remember?’

‘Sadly, all of you,’ Pitch said, shedding the act like an extra robe, his expression morphing into one of amusement. The others sighed in irritation, shaking their head and muttering under their breaths angrily. Mother Nature glared at him from the corner of her eye, but said nothing for his unwarranted glee.

Jack tutted, shaking his head as he leaned back against the desk. He knew how precious memories were, knew how devastating it was not to have them, even though it seemed he had somehow gotten away from the effects of the deal. He even remembered his mother and sister, Jamie and all the kids. Rumpelstiltskin, with all his pawn comments, must’ve overlooked him in the initial blast. Jack wasn’t sure if he’d be lucky enough the next time, but now that they only had twenty four hours before the next one was grabbed, they couldn’t waste any more time.

‘Well, now what are we going to – hey!’ he ducked as a blur of blue and green darted around his head, squeaking shrilly and checking him over. He leaned back, dodging the tiny little missile every time it dived before it stopped in front of his face, studying him with wide heterochromatic eyes full of concern. ‘Hey, someone get Tooth here, seems she’s missing a faerie!’

He was met by silence, and the little faerie’s mismatched eyes went wide. He looked around at the others questioningly, unable to understand their sudden silence, the pitying looks he was getting. Even Pitch had no snarky comment, his face a blank mask as he stared at him.

‘What?’ he asked before turning back to the faerie as she squeaked and chirped and gestured wildly at him. ‘Hey, come on, calm down. You’re safe with us, but what are you doing so far from home? You’re going to catch a chill like this!’

The faerie stilled, staring at Jack before her face crumpled and she burst into tears, turning and flying towards the door. Bunny reached out and snatched her from the air, curling his hands around her as she sobbed in his palm. Sandy sent a tiny stream of sand towards her, and lulled her into a calming sleep. Jack stared at her, distraught that he had made the tiny little faerie cry.

‘What? What’s wrong? What’d I say?’ he demanded, looking around for answers.

‘Jack,’ North said gently. ‘That is Baby Tooth.’

‘Who is – oh,’ he realised, and turned to stare at the little figure curled up in Bunny’s hands. ‘Oh no...’

They descended into silence, looking at each other as they all tried to rake their memories for something – someone – that was no longer there. Sandy blinked back tears as he looked at Mother Nature, as if looking at a stranger and North was silent as he tried to recall why they were searching for a Mother Goose, as though they had had one to begin with.

*

In her palace, Tooth picked herself up from the floor and dusted herself off, knowing the twenty four hours had gone and a memory had been taken from her. Images of her beloved ones flashed through her mind: North and Jack and Nightlight and Sandy and Bunny. She remembered Pitch and Mother Nature; she still remembered Katherine, as heart breaking as it was, and all her little faeries who were buzzing around the ceiling, carrying on their duties. She sighed with relief, and flew up to check on them, recalling who she was and what she was and where she had come from...

She stopped mid-flight, frowning in concentration as she tried to recall a particular detail; an incessant little piece of information that hovered just out of her grasp, like a word sitting on the tip of her tongue.

Panic set into her then, a realisation that something was missing, and she whirled around and darted down one of the long winding corridors into another wing of her palace, flitting around corners and through archways until she came to the Hall of Statues.

Tall, elegant carved wooden statues stood in a circle, branches protruding from them to reach up overhead, forming a living ceiling, blossoms blooming in among the leaves on the branches. While it was freezing cold up near the North Pole, in Tooth’s domain it was the equivalent of summer. 

She approached the statues, looking up into the life like faces of the warrior women they had once been, for they had once lived here in Punjam Hy Loo, protecting it and the wondrous creatures that inhabited it and the surrounding forests. Now they stood in a graveyard of their own making, after they had helped Tooth against an evil creature – not a man, with the evil in his heart – and had named her queen of Punjam Hy Loo. She circled them each, naming them in turn and checking the plaques beneath them, terrified of missing one when she came to the final statue: one that had never been alive, instead carved in memorial of the two people who stood tall and proud on the pedestal. She dropped down to the floor, looking at the plaque that held the two names of the immortalised people.

‘Haroom, father of Toothiana,’ she whispered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes and falling past her eyelashes as she recalled the terrible day he was taken from her life. She wiped at her cheeks, thankful she still had his memory and looked down at the second name written there. ‘And... and...’

Her breath hitched, her heart twisting in her chest as the air left her lungs. She choked out a painful sob, covering her mouth with her hands as she read the inscription over and over again, hoping it would do something to jog her memory, to make her  _remember_.

Nothing happened; she could pull no memory from the depths of her mind of the woman carved into the statue. She looked up at her impassive wooden face even as it became blurred by the tears streaming from her eyes. There was no recognition, no recollection of the woman named Rashmi: the statue of Haroom beside her and the inscription the only source of proof that she was Tooth’s mother.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, over and over again, curling over on herself at the base of the statue as she sobbed.

* * *

‘Right, that should be enough space to store your stuff,’ Darcy said, dusting off her hands. The lounge had needed some rearranging to fit everything, suddenly a lot more crowded with an extra person living in the small first floor apartment. A bedroom, a bathroom and one small storage room that was more like a cupboard by the front door took up one side of the entire floor plan. A narrow corridor separated them from the lounge and the kitchen that dominated the rest of the small flat.

Satu looked around her new home, noting the familiar details in the apartment from when she had visited for the weekend or the holidays and the new additions, like the black sofa bed with a matching chair. They contrasted starkly with the fluffy white rug in the centre of the room that covered the majority of the dark floorboards. The walls were black and white too. Well, three were white; the one facing the door to the lounge was black, a large mirror mounted on it over the fake coal fireplace. Darcy had put up a pair of lights in the shape of candelabras on either side of it one Halloween for a party one year and hadn't bothered taking them down since. Framed photographs littered the mantelpiece and the shelves on the bookcase that stood behind the door, and prints and artwork decorated the walls in staggered rows.

‘I swear I had less stuff when I packed in New York,’ Satu said, pulling her feet up and sitting cross-legged on the sofa as Darcy flopped down next to her.

‘I’d believe you if I didn’t know you for the hoarder you are,’ Darcy laughed, unbuckling her boots and tossing them aside. She clasped her hands behind her head, slouching down the cushions, her red tank top riding up to reveal her pierced naval and the four skin diver piercings following the crest of her hip bones on either side.

‘I’m not that much of a hoarder,’ Satu replied. She leaned back, resting her elbows on the arm of the sofa, running her fingers along her silver necklace, an intricately designed knotted tree hanging from it.

‘If you could, you could definitely carry around an entire library in your bag.’

‘I do have a tablet, that makes it so much easier.’

‘See what I mean? Hoarder.’

‘It doesn’t count if they’re all digital.’

‘What about your fairy tales?’

‘Oh, I kept those,’ Satu said, reaching over the side of the sofa and pulling up her oversized handbag. Opening the zip, she reached in and pulled out several heavy books; Hans Christian Anderson, Grimm Brothers, Lewis Carol.

‘You know you could murder someone with one of those, right?' Darcy asked, cocking her head to the side.

‘I almost did, once,’ Satu said, grinning up at Darcy.

‘Yeah, thanks, asshole,’ Darcy replied, rubbing her forehead, where a small, thin, faded scar cut across her skin just above the eyebrow. ‘I had a black eye for two weeks.’

‘And so, a great friendship was born that day,’ Satu snickered. ‘God, sometimes I think we were Sonja’s worst kids.’

‘We couldn’t have been too bad,’ Darcy replied. ‘We’re the only ones she ever formally adopted.’

‘Speaking of Sonja-’ Darcy grabbed her boots and standing up, beckoning Satu to follow her. ‘Come on, we’re going over to see her.’

Satu looked out the lounge window opposite them at the dark blue sky, hesitant. ‘Isn’t it a bit late? She might be in bed already, or at least really tired.’

‘We could be facing the apocalypse and she’d still spare five minutes to see us,’ Darcy said. ‘Come on, no excuse. With how things have turned out, it would be good to talk to Sonja. Let’s go.’

*****

Satu pushed open the squeaky wooden gate, holding it open so Darcy could enter the garden after her before letting it swing shut. The two rowan trees that stood guard either side of it were bare, their reaching, spindly branches intertwining with each other overhead and creating a high archway to walk under whenever someone entered the garden. They made their way up to the porch, snow crunching underfoot, the garden path still to be cleared after the sudden appearance of snow the previous night. The arched wooden trellises stationed along the mosaic stone path were bare of their usual blooms, frost turning them white and icicles hanging from the frame work. The house itself was quite large, the attic adding an extra level to it, and the vast gardens on every side adding grandeur. It was an old house, though, rough around the edges and showing its age in some, the outside white walls not so white anymore and the dark slates of the roof covered in lichen and grit.

The light was still on in the front room, shining around the edges of the curtains, and Darcy shot Satu a look that said “I told you so”. Satu nudged Darcy’s arm, rolling her eyes. A shadow flitted across the gap between curtains, and the hall light burst into life. The door was open before they had even made it to the first porch step, Sonja leaning against the doorjamb, patiently waiting for them with a cardigan wrapped around her against the cold night air. She smiled as they approached, until they stood in front of her on the threshold of their home.

‘Hey, Sonja,’ they chorused.

‘Hello, my darlings,’ she said, her Russian accent still heavy despite living her whole life in America. She pulled them into a hug, one arm wrapped around each of them. She had to stand on her toes to rest her chin on their shoulders, standing only a few inches over five foot. She pulled away and stepped back into the house, turning to the side to allow them past her into the house. ‘Come in, come in, you’ll catch your death out there. The kids are all in bed and I was just going to make tea.’

‘Can always rely on Grandma Burgess for that,’ Darcy chuckled, unwinding her scarf from her neck as Sonja shut the door behind them and slid past them to the kitchen at the back of the house.

‘Oh, don’t you start calling me that,’ she shushed. ‘I’ll start to feel really old if you two start that grandmother business.’

As if to prove her point, she ran her fingers through her shoulder length hair, thick and white like undisturbed snow. Despite everyone being convinced that it was from premature aging, she maintained that she had been white-haired since the day of her birth, when a blizzard so fierce ransacked the country, it apparently froze all the colour out of her hair. It was a story she enjoyed telling, receiving indulgent smiles and eye rolls from her wards whenever she told it. No one could contest the argument that she had been white haired since birth though, since no one could recall ever seeing her with anything else, her white hair forever a stark contrast against her tan brown skin and warm chestnut eyes.

‘Hey, that means we’re both off the hook for making babies, woohoo!’ Darcy laughed, throwing her hands in the air and earning a playful swat from Sonja as they followed her through to the kitchen. Darcy hopped onto the counter, while Satu sat down in the chair by the table, close to Darcy and facing the kettle on the counter Sonja leaned against.

Sonja folded her arms across her chest, looking at the two younger women in front of her expectantly. ‘So, tell me what the problem is, and we shall see what we can do.’

Satu grimaced. ‘Am I that obvious?’

‘Sonja knows all,’ Darcy stage whispered, waggling her fingers like she was casting a spell.

‘I do not need to “know all”, when puffy red eyes are dead give away,’ Sonja replied, nodding to Satu. ‘Also, radio silence except the occasional “I’m fine, everything is fine, no need to worry”? Satu, you are terrible liar for how imaginative you are.’

‘And don’t do that, Darcy,’ she added.

‘Man, all the kids are asleep, they’re not gonna get bad dreams over me doing this,’ Darcy said, waggling her fingers again.

‘Darcy.’

‘Okay, okay,’ she relented, holding her hands up in truce. Sonja knew just about every superstition and trick against the supernatural and the mythological: she had rowan trees out in the garden to ward off evil spirits, flowers and shrubs lining the edge of the house in the warmer months, herbs in the flower box out the kitchen window that had more uses than just cooking when they were in season. She knew all the little phrases and gestures and charms to stop unwanted attention from the unseen. She knew it all, for the children’s sake, so they weren’t scared of the dark or worried about the bogeyman in the closet or under the bed. She passed these titbits of knowledge around Burgess like her cookies, and both had lent to her popularity as Grandma Burgess.

‘Now,’ she said, turning back to face Satu. ‘Do I have to play twenty questions, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’

‘I failed spectacularly, I had to move back here onto Darcy’s sofa, I've got nothing and I'm going nowhere,’ Satu said, shrugging indifferently, twisting her rings with her thumbs.

'The usual doom and gloom,' Darcy piped up. 

‘Rather extreme, don't you think?’ Sonja asked, turning to make three cups of tea as the kettle boiled. ‘It's not all doom and gloom.’

‘Feel's like it,' Satu murmured, resting her cheek on a closed fist, her elbow propped up on the back of her chair. 

‘No? What about new paths to be explored?’ Sonja asked as she wandered over to the fridge and grabbed the milk from it. ‘No matter how bad things get, there's always good to balance it out, and coming back to Burgess doesn't mean failing. You can still find a way to go further with your life.’

'I never got far to begin with,' she said. She knew getting published wouldn't be enough; it wouldn't pay enough as her only job unless she struck gold, and leafing through the last of her notebooks a few days before she had packed up, she knew she had nothing close to it. Everything had been boring, rambling scrawling to her eyes, old clichés and tropes she'd seen a hundred times over. She couldn't make a story come together like she used to, once her characters had finished telling their tales after they'd wandered into her head, waiting for her to hear their story. Some wouldn’t speak for years, and she’d make guesses at who they were and where they had come from and what they had done? Others would suddenly barrel in full speed and would be there for days on end, babbling to her at a frantic pace as she scribbled as much as she could onto a page before she missed anything. Sometimes there’d be a dozen different ways their lives could go, and they only gave her enough information to work out the rest for herself. Now there were no stories for her, the characters were gone: as if they had realised she wasn’t worth their time. 'I should've found a better career.'

‘How better? More stable? More easily accessible?' Sonja said, spooning sugar into two mugs and handing it to Satu and Darcy.

'Yes?' Satu said, dismissing it even as she said it. She couldn't do anything else, couldn't imagine another life for herself. She sighed, wrapping her hands around the mug. 'I didn't expect it to be this way.'

'No one does, with their life,' Sonja said. Darcy raised her mug in silent agreement.

‘Maybe the kids can help you get over your writers block,’ Darcy said. ‘Your stories stuck with them; where do you think Jack Frost and the Guardians came from? You told them all these Scandinavian fairy tales, it wouldn’t take much of a google search to stumble across Jack Frost and let their imaginations run wild, right?’

Satu shrugged non-committally.

‘Remember the story you made up about the Tooth Fairy fighting the Bogeyman for our teeth?’ Darcy reminisced. ‘He couldn’t hurt us because the Tooth Fairy would chase him away. That gave me more than a few good night’s sleep.’

‘That’s only because someone told us the legend of teeth being used to control you,’ Satu said, looking pointedly at Sonja over the rim of her mug. ‘And you didn’t have a ward against it.’

Sonja shrugged. ‘You made your own ward against it. Belief is a powerful thing. Words can channel that power, and now the children under this roof and around Burgess believe that the night you lose a tooth is one night the Bogeyman can never haunt you.’

‘Except Jamie and his mates took it one step further and now you have the lean, mean, fighting machines known as the “Guardians”,’ Darcy said, chuckling.

‘Yeah, Santa Claus is a Cossack, Jack Frost lives out on Burgess Lake,’ Satu recalled.

‘And the Easter Bunny is Australian,’ Darcy said. She cackled at the expression on Satu’s face, clapping her hand over her mouth when Sonja shushed her, reminding her the children in her care were asleep up the stairs.

‘Why is the Easter Bunny Australian?’ Satu asked. Darcy shrugged.

‘Hey, they’re not my Guardians.’

‘I’m sure at one time they were, Darcy,’ Sonja said. ‘They are the protectors of children across the world. Although, I think sometimes adults still need them, too.’

‘The kids got to you too, huh?’ Darcy said, taking a gulp of her tea and gasping at the heat.

‘Don’t burn yourself,’ Sonja cautioned. Darcy fanned her tongue with one hand, the piercing through it flashing under the kitchen light. Satu smiled into her mug, taking a sip of tea. The warmth in Sonja’s kitchen and the easy company of family lulled her into a temporary calm: she knew that once they left and she tried to sleep tonight the fear and the doubt would set back in, but at the moment, she tried not to think about it.

‘Satu,’ Sonja said, getting her attention again. ‘Not getting it right the first time does not make you a failure. It’s a setback, and it’s not the first or the last life is going to throw at you. You get knocked down, and you get back up, and sometimes you have to repeat the process more times than you think is worth it, but it doesn’t matter if it takes a week or a month or a year, if you bounce back tomorrow or later on down the line, you’ll wake up one day and realise that it  _is_  worth getting back up, and it is worth it to pursue what you love. It just... may not be in the way you think or planned it will be.’

Satu didn’t say anything, dropping her gaze to her tea. Sonja didn’t press the matter: she knew when to push and when to back off from a subject. It helped people open up to her, and it was just one more reason she was so well liked around town – she let everyone come to her on their own time instead of demanding it.

So the subject turned to more general matters, catching up on the little day to day things that made up their lives. The curtains were drawn, so they couldn’t see outside into the night as moonbeams danced down onto earth, skittering over rooftops and circling towards Sonja’s home. They murmured and muttered among themselves in their own, old language, carrying out the Man in the Moon’s orders. He couldn’t do much for the Guardians, but his moonbeams were always on hand to help guide the way.

One danced along the windowsill, climbing up onto the empty red trough that would hold the aromatic herbs when spring rolled around once more, others following it in a line of glowing spectres, crowding around the narrow gap between the curtains to try to get a better look inside. Their soft whispers were the only sound in the darkness, too quiet for human ears except in their sleep, speaking over each other in a rush as they pushed and nudged each other out of the way to watch the three women speak, oblivious to their presence.

One small moonbeam, pushed to the back of the group by the larger beams, huffed in annoyance and bounced back from the sill, hovering in the air behind them, no more noticeable than a firefly. He pouted, and dived back into the group, trying to push his way through them. They did not move for him, elbowing him back and snapping at him.

He pouted, tried again when a sly shift in the shadows caught his eye, just out of the full scope of his vision. He cried out and the moonbeams twisted round to stare at him as Fearlings surged up from the darkness underneath the windowsill.

The moonbeams scattered in a panic and the Fearling snapped its long, narrow jaw at them. Its teeth closed around thin air as the moonbeams retreated, spiralling up through the air in the safety of the moon’s light. It glared at the lights as more dark creatures slipped from their hiding place, twisting their heads to stare through the same gap the moonbeams had used to watch the women, their idle chatter muted by the glass and curtains.

The Fearlings sniffed the air, eyeing the herb trough on the window and snow piled high on the bare earth circling the house tight to the edges. They could sense the dormant seeds deep beneath the cold surface, waiting to germinate. They could not keep the darkness away, no more than the rowan trees could stop them getting this close to the women’s home, their only true weakness being the sun. But they were still a deterrent, fuelled by a strong enough belief that they could go no further than hover at the window, staring into the bright kitchen with empty opaque eyes.

The darkness sniffed the air again, growling low in their throats before they slid into the darkness and slipped back to their master to deliver news of their discovery.


	14. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mind can work against you, in one way or another.

Satu heard Darcy’s alarm sound through the apartment, but she was already awake. She wasn’t even sure if she’d slept: she must have, at least a little, but the night before had mostly been spent tossing and turning on the sofa, kicking the quilt and the pillows off her only to retrieve them once she had the energy to move. Long empty silences of staring up into the darkness of the lounge, listening to her own breathing filled the rest of her night. It was a particularly bad night, leaving her drained and miserable when the first light of dawn had peaked through the curtains, long rays of cold grey light streaming across the floor and rug.

She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she listened to Darcy shuffle around the flat. She hadn’t switched off her alarm – the radio on her digital clock turned to a news channel reeling off the morning stories – and the static laced voices filled the apartment.

_“--as the rate of hospital admittance soars and it’s not just the elderly or young children. People of all ages are displaying what looks like an extremely aggressive strain of the influenza virus, with many cases developing baffling —”_

'Morning,’ Darcy said as she wandered into the lounge. Satu turned her head to watch her, nodding in greeting. Darcy smiled through her early morning tiredness, her face uncharacteristically blank without all her decorations. She had one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee, using her free hand to steady herself as she climbed onto the sofa bed and curled up in the top corner, crossing her legs underneath her so she didn’t kick Satu.

‘You didn’t sleep.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘No,’ Satu said. Darcy nodded and took a sip of her coffee.

‘Do you want to get up?’

Satu exhaled a deep breath, her eyes trained on the ceiling. She pushed her fingers through her hair, scratching her nails across her scalp.

‘Yeah,’ Satu said after a length of time.

She didn’t move. Darcy took another sip from her mug, cocked her head to the side as she stared down at Satu.

‘Do you want help getting up?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay.’ Darcy set her mug down by the side of the sofa, unfolding her legs and crawling along the bed. Turning, she knelt next to Satu legs and extended a hand for her to take.

Satu huffed a breath, fighting her limbs to move. She braced one hand against the mattress, and reached the other out to wrap her fingers around Darcy’s hand. Darcy’s hand circled her slim hand and pulled, Satu leveraging herself up on one hand with Darcy’s help until she sat up completely.

‘There. That wasn’t so bad,’ Darcy said, her palms sinking into the mattress as she leaned back. Satu drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, pushing one hand through her hair again. She smiled.

‘Thanks Darcy,’ she said, stifling a yawn. ‘What’s happening today?’

‘Hand in your paperwork so we can get you on payroll and the rota, start you on on-the-job training with the same shift as me for now.’

‘Won’t I need to meet with the head waiter or something,’ Satu said, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. ‘Go through introductions or have some sort of formal interview on record?’

‘He’s off on holiday, the asshole, he won’t be coming back till after Christmas,’ Darcy said, shaking her head. ‘Oliver keeps things running in the restaurant and bar while he’s away, so we can mess with the paperwork a little so no one will know. It’ll be easier to get you up and going that way.’

‘You won’t get in trouble for it?’

Darcy shrugged. ‘Hey, what he don’t know can backfire on me. Anyway, I say Oliver runs the place but they’d fall apart without me, so don’t worry about it.’

Satu bit her lip. She was already saddling Darcy with a lot of her troubles, she didn’t want to stir up more for her. Darcy tapped her leg, reading her mind, nodding her head towards the door. ‘It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get some breakfast before we head. Maybe that’ll stop you worrying.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Satu agreed, pushing the covers off her and twisting out of bed, grabbing her silver necklace from the sofa arm and slipping it around her neck. Darcy bent down and picked up her coffee before leading her through to the kitchen, the noise of clattering bowls and utensils and pots soon joining the news anchor’s droning, filling the small apartment.

* * *

North refused to look up as Ombric lowered himself into the chair next to him, folding his robes around him neatly. His staff he set by his side, keeping one hand resting on it as he leaned back into his chair and rested his chin on his other hand, staring at North. North stubbornly looked ahead, his arms folded across his knees as he hunched over, staring into the fire.

He had all but thrown everyone out of his study after their memories were stolen the previous night, and no one had been willing to argue with him, especially when anger took over the confusion left in the wake of the fracture they all now had in their minds. Only Bunnymund had tarried, the only one brave enough and stubborn enough to handle the gruff Cossack. He had wrung answers out of him, piecing together what North had forgotten and in turn, gave him the answers to what the gaps had contained as best as he could, before heading over to Tooth Palace to return Baby Tooth to her home. North had remained in his study all through the night, refusing to come out, and refusing to see anyone once Bunnymund had left.

‘What have you forgotten?’ Ombric asked after a stretch of silence.

‘Ridiculous question,’ North snapped, wringing his hands together repeatedly. ‘How can I tell you what I have forgotten if I do not remember it?’

Ombric nodded. ‘I suppose Bunnymund telling you things you cannot remember is not grounds for believing what he says to be true. Perhaps a more appropriate question would be; what is confusing you?’

North narrowed his eyes, sharpening the wrinkles at the corners and on his brow. The dancing flames painting him in orange light emphasised them, making him look much older.

‘Everything,’ he answered. His lips tightened at the corners, displeased with his answer and amended: ‘Almost everything. In my mind, I have two lives: one as the Bandit King, the other as the Guardian of Wonder. I was the most feared bandit in all of history. My stories were legendary. I stole the most wondrous things across the whole world, and no one could ever catch me. Now, I’m putting wonder into world.’

He looked around his study as if he had never seen it before, and Ombric followed his gaze to all his blueprints and sketches and notes, overflowing with ideas for incredible contraptions and mechanisms and models. The prototypes of some of those ideas hung from the ceiling, not on string, just simply hovered there until it was their time to be used. Books and gadgets and tools littered the shelves, some of the tomes recognisable to Ombric, having given them to North himself. North shook his head, exhaling heavily through his nose. ‘I do not know how I stopped being one and became the other.’

‘Katherine had a strong influence in your life,’ Ombric replied. ‘She changed it, from the moment you heard her and the children scream in fear of the Great Bear. She considered you one of her dearest friends.’

North shook his head again, dragging one hand through his hair in frustration. ‘I do not remember her friendship. I do not remember her as Katherine or as Mother Goose: he told me she was your daughter, but for as long as I have known you, you have never had a daughter nor even a wife. I have never known a Mother Goose to exist, though it makes sense that we need one.’

He paused, his eyes downcast. ‘If I did know her, if she was real, I know she must have been important. Not just as a Guardian of our stories, but… I saw how Jack looked at Baby Tooth as if she was a stranger, and his guilt when her heart broke.’

‘It hurts to see our loved ones forget us,’ Ombric said. ‘It hurts us seeing our loved ones hurt, knowing we are to blame. Sadness can quickly turn to anger, though, and it would cause a rift between everyone. I imagine that is what Rumpelstiltskin is hoping, even expecting.’

‘Are you angry?’ North finally turned to Ombric with tired eyes. ‘Are you angry that I cannot remember your daughter?’

‘Yes,’ Ombric answered after a pause, dropping his hand from his chin and straightening in his seat. ‘She was killed, and I do not have a body to bury nor the time to arrange a proper farewell, and now she is being taken from the minds of her friends as if she never existed. I am _furious_.’ North nodded, closing his eyes and slumping back in his chair. ‘I am not, however, angry at you. It will do you no good to be angry with yourself. This is the work of Rumpelstiltskin. Had it not been for him, Katherine would still be alive and remembered. I am angry at him and him alone.’

North looked around his study again, frustrated and restless. ‘I would love nothing more than to take up my swords and go out to meet Rumpelstiltskin man to man. On the other hand, I know I cannot go into battle without the other Guardians, and I am finding myself hesitant to do so. It is frustrating.’

‘The loss of a significant part of your life, one that is so dominant in many of your memories, has caused a split in your mind,’ Ombric explained, twirling his moustache between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It is conflicting with the way you act and think now. I imagine many of the others are feeling the same, and you are no stranger to it as of late.’

North face twisted into a grimace as he reached up and rubbed his chest in small, firm circles, as if that would soothe the heavy, incessant ache that now resided there. He felt old, and tired, and when he looked around at all the impossible, wonderful contraptions and gadgets and tools and books on incredible things scattered around his study, a small, but growing, part of his mind scoffed at the ridiculousness of the flying toys and overly colourful halls.

‘I am the Guardian of Wonder,’ he said, as if to convince himself. The words sounded hollow, even though he knew what he said was the truth. He _was_ the Guardian of Wonder, just as he had been the Bandit King. But his mind was filled with gaping holes of empty blackness, separating the two. He tried to reach into the emptiness, tried to pull the shredded edges of his mind together and stitch them up, but the more he tried, the more the edges frayed and the emptiness grew. Only one memory gone, and already he felt he could not trust his own mind.

‘I will need to check on Jack,’ North said, his thoughts turning to the other Guardians. Jack had been the quickest to leave after North demanded it, pulling his hood up over his head and avoided looking at Bunny, who still held Baby Tooth in his hands.

Ombric cocked his head to one side, raised a questioning eyebrow.

North caught his gaze, remembering that Ombric had yet to meet Jack face to face. Word had quickly spread and gossip was rife, though, particularly among the yeti who had tended the medical ward. They enjoyed speaking of Jack and his antics, however they claimed him to be a nuisance. It seemed taking on a Fearling Hivemind by himself was not a surprise addition to his repertoire of feats, and Ombric had heard more than a fair share of them through the grapevine, although many would be missed in retelling.

‘Jack was without memories for three hundred years,’ North explained. ‘He only just got them back a few years ago. To lose them again so soon… I worry for him.’

Ombric nodded, continued twirling his moustache. ‘A strange phenomenon. I have never heard of such a thing occurring.’

‘Neither had we,’ North said. ‘We were surprised when he told us.’

‘He sounds like quite an incredible young man,’ Ombric said. ‘I look forward to finally meeting him.’

‘I will introduce you, when I can,’ North promised. Ombric nodded, and they fell into silence: Ombric twisting his moustache, North resting his head in his hand as he stared ahead into the crackling flames of his study’s fireplace without really seeing it. It was Ombric who broke the silence once more.

‘I shall join the search for Mother Goose.’

‘Ombric, no! No one can ask you to do that,’ North said, his eyes snapping up and staring at Ombric in shock. Ombric had lost his daughter and the whole world was looking for her replacement only days after her death. It would be a heavy toll on him, especially with no ceremony for her passing. It was one insult too many to ask him to join the search.

‘No one is asking, I am offering my help,’ Ombric corrected. ‘And I am not searching for a replacement for my… for my daughter.’ He cleared his throat, turning his face away from North as his breath hitched. North looked away, giving him the space he needed to compose himself. He cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. ‘I am searching for the next Mother Goose. It would have happened eventually, although it should never have been within my lifetime.’

‘It will only become more difficult from here,’ North warned. Ombric’s face twisted into a grim smile.

‘That is not a comforting thought,’ he echoed North’s earlier words. ‘But unsurprising. You will need all the help you can get.’

*

Jack stared out at the mountains and valleys around the workshop, the heavy blanket of unbroken snow sparkling under the sunlight. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as he gripped his staff loosely in one hand, drawing figure-eight’s in the air with it, swirls of frost mist dancing around him. The wind caught some of it and carried it off; the light catching the particles and making them glitter and gleam. 

While the arctic was meant to be in a six-month night, North’s home and the surrounding landscape maintained a clock-work cycle between day and night regardless of the time of the year. It had scuppered his plans for sneaking into the workshop a number of times over the centuries. At the moment, he struggled to appreciate it, his mind preoccupied with other things. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing – he had remained in the workshop last night, without any orders forthcoming from the other Guardians or even Mother Nature, which was a blessing in a way.

Still, he felt restless and useless, worried he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to - was he meant to go back out and keep searching? Was he meant to go spread snow and fun and everything he lacked the motivation to do? Was he meant to check on the kids again?

‘I thought I might find you out here,’ North said from the window, sitting himself on the ledge and leaning against the frame. He looked out around the edge of it to where Jack sat on the sloping roof nearby.

Jack shrugged, pulling his knees up closer to his chest and burying his face in them, his drawn up hood hiding him from North completely.

‘Is the baby tooth alright?’ he asked to his trouser legs, unsure if North could hear his muffled question. He didn’t feel like uncurling himself to repeat the question.

‘Bunny is taking her back to Tooth palace,’ North replied. ‘He will check on Tooth while he is there as well.’

Jack nodded, but said nothing further. The look on her face had been terrible to see when he had failed to remember her, and no matter how hard he scrabbled with his memories, nothing clicked into place. Then he noticed how far the gaps in his memories stretched, leading back to that Easter, where the memories he still had felt wrong, and it unnerved him even more.

‘It’s not your fault you can’t remember,’ North said. Jack said nothing, keeping his head down. He heard a sad sigh, North trying to figure out what to say. It wasn’t like before, when he was determined to convince Jack he was a Guardian.

There was a stretch of silence, so long Jack thought North had walked away when he spoke again, quietly.

‘I am worried about you, Jack-’

‘What? Why?’ Jack demanded, snapping his head up, staring at North. North stared back at him, his brow furrowed in concern.

‘Jack, you only just recovered your memories,’ North began. ‘To lose them again so suddenly would be difficult to bear for anyone-’

‘North, I’m fine,’ Jack denied quickly, straightening and turning towards North. He shook his head, pushing his hood back from his face. Hours ago he had wanted the Guardians acknowledgement, their attention on him more than Nightlight. Now he worried that it would set him on a course he did not want to follow. ‘I’m not going to, I don’t know, break down or anything. You don’t have to worry that I’m not going to keep it together against Rumpelstiltskin -’

‘Jack, that’s not-’

‘Because I’m not. I went without memories for three hundred years. Losing them over a few weeks is nothing.’

‘Jack, losing memories gradually is not the same as not having them to begin with,’ North said. ‘You don’t know how badly it could affect-’

‘It won’t,’ Jack cut him off. He shook his head. He refused to give anyone the chance to think he wouldn’t be up to the task. Even though his own mind unnerved him; a broken mosaic of memories littered with holes, but on the surface, he could pretend it didn’t affect him. He could pretend nothing was wrong: he had three hundred years of practice. ‘I promise, North. I promise I won’t let you guys down.’

‘I know, Jack,’ North said quietly. ‘I know. It’s just that… ah,’ he grumbled, waving his hand in frustration, as if to shoo away an irritating fly. ‘You must think I am old fool to be worrying so much, when I know how strong-willed all of you are. I have seen it plenty times before.’

A thought struck Jack then, and it churned his stomach and brought bile to the back of his throat. ‘Have… have you checked on Nightlight?’

‘Nightlight?’ North repeated, his eyebrows hitching up at the mention of him.

Jack bit his tongue and looked away. He regretted asking the moment the words escaped his lips, knowing it was petty and childish. It was not a competition, but the thought that North considered Jack the only one likely to break down over the loss of his memories while keeping every faith Nightlight was strong enough to handle the loss… something twisted in Jack’s chest, cold and bitter and dark.

‘I have not checked on him, yet, no,’ North said, and the monster in Jack’s chest reared up, hissing.

‘Oh.’

‘I threw you all out of my study unfairly, in anger,’ North added, folding his arms over his chest and scratching the crease of his elbow. ‘It was unkind to do that to you all, when we have all suffered the same. I apologise for that, Jack.’

‘‘S’fine,’ Jack mumbled with a shrug, looking down at his feet as he returned to his original position, his legs drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped tight around them.

‘I’m glad you asked about Nightlight.’

Jack’s brow furrowed and he turned to look at North, confused by the small smile on his face.

‘After patchy beginning, is good to see you care about how he is faring,’ North said.

‘Ah, that’s… I mean, I didn’t…’ Jack trailed off, seeing the grateful relief on North’s face, and the monster in his chest deflated with guilt. He swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. ‘Yeah, well, just… don’t tell him that I asked, okay?’

‘Of course, I know how stubborn the pair of you are,’ North said. ‘You have a lot in common, Jack.’

Jack snorted and didn’t comment. He was saved when he saw a dark blot appear on the horizon, bounding towards the Workshop in long, loping strides. He perked up, and North followed his gaze.

‘Ah, it seems Bunny is back from Tooth Palace,’ he said, standing up and bracing his hands on the ledge instead as he followed Bunny’s path back to the Workshop.

‘Do you think we’re needed there?’

‘Not for time being,’ North said after a moment of thought. ‘If Tooth were in trouble, Pitch has Nightmares there to inform us of problems. Sandy has dream-sand link to her palace as well, just in case Pitch does not inform us of trouble in time. Worse, I would have seen her name disappear from list.’

He raised his arm with the “nice” tattoo on it, as if to show Jack Tooth’s name scrawled between the little icons dotted around it. ‘She is on nice list.’

‘I’ll get there eventually,’ Jack said. North hummed, a disbelieving smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

‘If we are needed at Tooth palace, Bunny will tell me,’ he said. ‘I shall find you and we all go together, da?’

‘Yeah, no problem, North,’ Jack agreed. ‘Hey, is there… is there anything you want me to do? To help?’

‘Not at the moment,’ North replied, shaking his head. ‘We do not have strong leads, and we need a way to track everyone now that Fearlings are focusing on us. We are starting to send spirits out in shifts, following anything the muses deem noteworthy. We want to make sure all our numbers come back at end of the day.’

Jack ducked his head. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘It is alright, Jack,’ North soothed gently. ‘It was good you were there to protect the kids. It’s why you were made a Guardian.’

Jack’s lips quirked into an almost-smile, and he looked back out over the valley. 'Do you think the kids will be all right?'

'Rumpelstiltskin said they would not be harmed. He is very particular about keeping his word, however much he tries to twist it,' North said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'Whatever he wants, they don't have it. Best to look after them by looking after ourselves, and that means finding Mother Goose and stopping him altogether.'

Jack nodded, falling into silence and North disappeared back into the workshop to meet Bunny.

Jack sighed heavily, scrubbing one hand through his hair in frustration. Tracking through his memories, he realised quickly that the ones most affected were focused within the three day span of Easter five years ago. It shouldn’t seem like a lot – he had seen humans spend weekends getting drunk or high and unable to recall anything within that forty eight hour period - but the emptiness plagued him, the last three centuries creeping back up on him.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Chasing after memories had gotten him into nothing but trouble the last time. His desperation to hold onto the ones he still had could make him a liability, regardless of North’s reassurances. He risked failure if he let himself get pulled in too deep in the desire to hold onto his memories. He risked losing his place with the Guardians to Nightlight, since he clearly didn’t need monitored for a mental breakdown, and he was certain Mother Nature wouldn’t think twice about dragging him across hot coals if he slipped up so much as once, especially with the Snow Queen reporting back to her.

His skin prickled on the back of his neck, and he reached round to scratch at it: he was surrounded by winter – she had said herself she was winter incarnate - and for the first time in three hundred years it made him uncomfortable, exposed. He couldn’t help the feeling that he was being watched.

‘If you are going to blatantly parade your fears around, you could at least extend me the courtesy and make them _interesting_.’

Jack jumped, and twisted around to look up at Pitch. He sat on the roof that jutted out over the window North had been in moments ago, his elbows propped on his knees with his hands curled under his chin, leaning forward to stare down at Jack with a bored look on his face. His eyes were pinched around the corners, though: he wasn’t as relaxed as he seemed.

‘What do you want, Pitch?’ Jack asked, leaning back and bracing himself on his elbows, turning his attention away from Pitch, back to the surrounding tundra.

‘Peace,’ he replied, and Jack snorted, his lips pulled into half smile.

‘Well, tis the season.’

Pitch glared at him. ‘Not that kind of peace,’ he snapped. ‘Peace and quiet, but that seems impossible for the time being.’

‘How come?’ Jack cocked his head to one side, curious.

‘Everyone’s broadcasting their fears,’ he explained, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Loudly. What’s worse, they’re all projecting the same thing: it’s like walking into a room with a hundred radios on full blast, playing the same station, except they’re all a few seconds out of sync with each other.’

‘So what are you doing up here with me?’ Jack asked, looking over his shoulder at Pitch. ‘Since I’m “parading” my fears around as well.

‘You block out everyone else,’ Pitch said, dropping his hands away from his face. ‘I can usually tune out fears, but in such close quarters it is proving difficult, so I must rely on other methods.’

‘Glad to be one of them,’ Jack said sarcastically. Pitch smiled.

‘It’s really not that difficult,’ he said. ‘I don’t even have to push and you give me everything I need.’

‘ _Aaaand_ you have crossed the line from annoying to creepy. In record timing, too. Congratulations.’

‘You realise it’s only going to get worse, don’t you?’ Pitch asked, ignoring Jack’s attempt to steer the conversation away from himself. ‘With every memory that gets taken, you’ll all unravel a little bit more and Jack, I think we all can see you’ve got the most loose ends to pull.’

‘Who did you forget, Pitch?’ he asked suddenly, turning to glare at Pitch. ‘What was taken from you, since you’re so all-knowing about how this is going to keep affecting us?’

There was a pause, Pitch meeting his glare blankly.

‘That’s a rather pointless question, Jack,’ he replied after a while. ‘If I can’t remember them, how can I tell you I’ve forgotten?’

‘You must’ve forgotten someone, someone important,’ Jack pressed. ‘Someone who leaves gaps in your memories.’

‘You think the faerie was important?’ Pitch asked, raising an eyebrow. A knowing smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

‘She must’ve been,’ Jack said, meeting his eye.

Pitch stared at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he sighed. ‘Rumpelstiltskin has been quite clever with this. For all we know, he has a set pattern for all the memories he takes, or takes them at random.’

‘I don’t think it matters,’ Jack argued. ‘We lose them either way.’

‘You think so? Then tell me,’ Pitch said. ‘If, for example, Rumpelstiltskin is taking the memories we hold most precious to ourselves, what do you think is going to happen when say, the Guardians forget everyone else, except you?’

‘Yeah, just as an example,’ Jack scoffed, shaking his head. He knew what Pitch meant though, and his shoulders slumped at the thought. The more memories that were taken, doubts would quickly take up the space the memories vacated, and everyone would be too busy fighting each other to focus on Rumpelstiltskin. ‘You think that’s his plan?’

Pitch shrugged. ‘He either has a pattern or he doesn’t, and no matter which way it spins it will hurt, and it will throw everyone into a state of paranoia about what they’ll lose next. Either way, you’ll all be driven to both insanity and anger while he carries on his way.’

‘Oh, and you won’t be just the same as us when we’re out of our minds and at each other’s throats?’ Jack asked. Pitch cocked an eyebrow, smiling.

‘No, I think I shall sit back and watch,’ he replied, sliding off his perch so he could brace his elbows on the roof peak, stretching his long legs out in front of him, mimicking Jack. ‘As Rumpelstiltskin executes his plan through to completion without as much as a hiccup.’

Jack frowned, rolling his eyes at Pitch’s sarcasm. ‘He’s played his deal really well.’

‘He always does.’

Jack looked up at Pitch, hearing the sadness in his voice. Pitch wasn’t looked at him anymore, his gaze turned out over the landscape, seeming lost in thought.

‘He did the same with the deal for the Fearlings, didn’t he?’

‘It wasn’t a deal!’ Pitch snarled, snapping his head round to glare at Jack, his eyes hardening into gold flints. Jack raised his hands, palms out, in a sign of truce. Pitch softened, but didn’t lose his scowl. ‘It doesn’t matter either way, once Mother Goose is found we can focus our efforts on getting rid of Rumpelstiltskin.’

‘That would give the Fearlings back to you,’ Jack replied, cocking his eyebrow. ‘And doesn’t that just work out perfect for you.’

Pitch glanced at him through half lidded eyes, and a predatory smile curled up on his lips.

‘Why do you think I’m fighting on this side of the battle? I’m only in this for my own gain, since I can’t exactly jump the sinking ship anymore. And trust me; you’ll all want the Fearlings back in my possession by the time the dust settles.’

Jack snorted. ‘I think a lot of spirits would argue that.’

‘Doubtful.’

‘Why's that?’

Pitch’s smile grew. ‘Because I’m the devil you know.’

Jack looked up at him, meeting his gaze and he knew he was right. Pitch wasn’t always predictable, but all his plans were built from the same foundation – to bring fear and darkness, to be believed in, to be stronger than them. It allowed the Guardians to judge what course of action to take against him, how to defend, how to attack. Rumpelstiltskin wanted to destroy the whole universe, and while he said he played fair, he exploited loopholes and deliberately added chaos in the guise of order.

‘Yeah, I can believe that,’ Jack agreed. He was silent for a long moment, contemplative. ‘You still haven’t said about what you’ve forgotten.’

‘Yo, Jack my lad!’ Jack-O leaned far out over the window ledge that North had occupied, grinning at Jack behind his half pumpkin mask. Pumpkin Head skittered along the ledge, and leapt out onto the gutters, pulling himself up onto the roof to scuttle around Jack. Jack followed him, craning his head round to keep his eye on the pumpkin.

‘Hi Jack-O,’ he greeted with a smile as Jack-O swung himself out the window and followed the same route as Pumpkin Head had taken. Jack reached out his hand, and Jack-O gripped it, allowing himself to be pulled up when he suddenly froze, his eyes moving past Jack to where Pitch sat on the rooftop. He glared up at him, his usually cheerful features twisting into a dark scowl as he swung his staff off of his shoulder, keeping it to his side, ready to swing it up in case of an attack. Pitch glared at him, sneering. Beside Jack, Pumpkin Head growled.

‘Hey! Woah, woah, guys! Not while we’re on the roof,’ Jack said, tightening his grip on Jack-O’s hand and glancing to the edge, the tiles dropping away into several hundred feet of nothing but air between them and the solid frozen rock at the bottom.

‘Oh no, please, Jack,’ Pitch drawled, a cold smile spreading across his face, alighting his eyes with a cruel menace as he pulled himself up, leering over Jack-O. ‘Let him go, I’ll take care of him.’

Jack-O tensed, pulling at Jack’s grip. Jack’s hold remained firm, looking between Jack-O and Pitch. They paid no attention to him, staring at each other. Pumpkin Head pulled himself up onto Jack’s back, heavy on his shoulders, tipping him forward. He unfurled his vines like whips ready to crack through the air, growling deep from within his hard orange shell.

Pitch looked down the bridge of his nose at the three of them, huffing a laugh under his breath and shaking his head, his patronising grin widening. ‘Oh, Jack O’Lantern, you’ve got some nerve acting so brave in front of Jack when we both know you’re nothing but mush on the inside like that rotten pumpkin of yours.’

Pumpkin Head gnashed his teeth.

Pitch smirked. ‘Maybe wait until tonight, when it gets dark, and meet me face to face on your own. Let’s see how brave you are, then. Let’s see how similar the results are to our last encounter.’

‘Don’t you dare touch him!’ Jack snapped, rolling himself up into a half crouch, shifting Pumpkin Head to get a better balance. He kept one hand holding Jack-O back and wrapped the other one tight around his staff, ready to use it. ‘Leave him alone, Pitch.’

Pitch snorted, pulling back and standing in one fluid motion, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared down at Jack condescendingly. ‘And here I was, thinking the Guardians were the lowest you could stoop. You surprise me, Jack.’

‘Get out of here, Pitch,’ Jack snapped.

Pitch sneered, his lip curling in disgust before his expression smoothed out, cold and indifferent. ‘Fine, but I warn you Jack, everyone has loose ends. Pull the right one and the whole spun yarn unravels.’

Without warning, he dropped into the shadows beneath him, like spilled ink, before even they disappeared from the slate roof, leaving nothing in their wake to evidence Pitch had been there. Jack stared at where Pitch had stood in silence, listening to Jack-O breathe in rapid, ragged breaths by his side, feeling him shake through his fingertips.

Jack-O suddenly groaned, throwing his arms up in the air and bowing over backwards, startling Jack as he grumbled to the sky. ‘Ah, man! That was not good for my heart, yeah?’ He flopped down beside Jack, letting his head fall back against the tiles. Jack released his arm, and Jack-O clutched at his chest. ‘Oh, boy – have not been that up close and personal with him in a long, long time.’

‘You’re scared of him?’ Jack asked. Jack-O turned to look at him as if he were crazy.

‘Jack my lad, have you _seen_ him? ‘Course I’m bloody scared of him!’

‘Why did you act like you weren’t?’

‘Well,’ Jack-O said, suddenly sheepish. ‘It’s not such a big scare when you’ve got your friends behind you, yeah? Anyway, it looked like he was hassling you. Didn’t want him to do that, yeah?’

‘Thanks,’ Jack said, smiling. It surprised him how much he appreciated Jack-O’s protectiveness and he settled down beside him, looping his arms around his knees, looser than before. He glanced up to where Pitch had been standing moments before.

‘What was he saying about yarn, anyway?’ Jack-O asked. Jack turned to face him.

‘Oh, he said something similar earlier. It’s not important.’

Jack-O pursed his lips and shrugged, clasping his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe he’s thinking of taking up crochet.’

Jack startled himself with laughter, and Jack-O grinned up at him, winking. ‘Don’t stress over him, yeah? He’s not worth it. Especially when there’s other things to stress about.’

‘Yeah,’ Jack agreed, tipping his head back and exhaling a long breath. Pumpkin Head skittered off him, pulling himself up onto Jack-O’s chest as Jack-O’s eyes drifted shut. Jack watched them, amazed at how easy they seemed to relax after facing off against Pitch moments ago. ‘What are you doing up here? Not that I mind your company, it’s just… everyone seems distracted by, well, themselves.’

Jack-O shrugged, pulling a face. ‘I figure everyone’s miserable, and you know what they say about that and company. Figured you could use some.’

Jack smiled, grateful. ‘Thanks Jack-O. You’re not wrong.’

‘Course I’m not,’ he agreed. He cracked an eye open. ‘You know who else loves company? Seasons. And sisters. Particularly Season sisters. Pumpkin Head?’

‘Yrrgh yrrgh!’ Pumpkin Head garbled, standing on ropes of vine as if he were at attention.

‘Go get the girls, let’s just chill for a while before anyone decides we need to get work done,’ Jack-O ordered, and Pumpkin Head saluted him before scurrying back to the window, swinging himself inside.

‘I should probably head out, actually,’ Jack said, looking out over the landscape. Despite what North had said, he felt like he should be doing something: something that would give him something to show for his effort. He made no move to get up, though, his body rebelling at the thought of physical work, weighted down by bones of lead. Jack-O waved him off, shaking his head.

‘Nah, lad, if no one’s said anything, there’s nothing to do,’ he argued.

‘We gotta find Mother Goose.’

‘You know where to start?’

‘No,’ Jack answered truthfully after a moment.

‘Then, there you go. No reason to go off on a wild goose chase: let everyone else pour over maps and ledgers and papers and all that boring serious stuff, they’ll delegate fast enough when they've got something to delegate.’

‘We might lose another memory before that happens.’

‘We might,’ Jack-O agreed. ‘We might get Rumpelstiltskin at the front door toting the next Mother Goose’s head in hand, if there even is one, and nullify the deal. We might get grabbed by Fearlings or whatever else is in his army and chewed up if we so much as step outside the Workshop’s parameters. We might end up having a lot of things happen, none of which are under our control. You’re not going to help doing nothing that looks like something, so you might as well take the opportunity to do nothing when you have it, yeah?’

‘I guess,’ Jack replied, unconvinced. Jack-O glanced up at him, only a thin sliver of eye appearing under his eyelid. Under the long strokes of his eyelashes, the dark peaty brown of the iris gave the illusion that there was an empty hole where his eye should be.

‘Hey, come on,’ he encouraged. ‘Tell you what, when the girls get here, we can head in and eavesdrop on the conversation, jot down some potential leads and maybe get there first, yeah?’

‘You’d do that? You’d help me?’

‘It’s what mates are for, yeah? And anyway, it’s not all about you.’ His face split into a wide grin. ‘One, the big bosses want to keep tabs on us and send us out in groups or whatever, and ain’t it just my cup of tea to be messing with the system to benefit myself. Two, imagine the look on everyone’s faces if _we_ found Mother Goose and get the glory for saving the world. Man, forget mischief, imagine being put up on _that_ pedestal.’

Jack huffed a laugh, his eyes finding the sky again as he indulged the thought. He didn’t expect there would be cheering or high praise. He didn’t even want the crowd: he’d be happy to be with the other Guardians, celebrating the apocalypse being avoided, just the five of them.

‘Yeah, see, you like the idea too,’ Jack-O said, catching sight of Jack’s smile. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Jack my lad, it’s all gonna work out, yeah?’

‘Yeah, it’ll be okay,’ Jack agreed, leaning back on his elbows and the pair of them fell into a comfortable silence.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin stared at the empty space in front of him, contemplating the recent development in his travels. A foot in front of him, dirt and twisted roots gave way to rolling green pastures as far as he could see, the inside of the Warren inaccessible to him. He raised his hand, reaching out and he instantly felt a pressure against his palm, insistent that he could go no further.

He pursed his lips, and flexed his fingers, the force of a black hole appearing in the palm of his hand.

Rock and dirt and bone and insects were pulled into the abyss from around him, but the barrier did not move and beyond it, the Warren remained undisturbed. He frowned, lowering his hand and slipped it into his pocket once more. The Warren was untouchable, unlike anywhere else in the world. Certainly North’s workshop had its rules against violence, but it wouldn’t have stopped him from pulling the whole building into nothingness around everyone standing in it.

But the Warren, bathed in light and full of life, could not be entered by unwanted guests.

Rumpelstiltskin frowned, pursing his lips when a soft slither drew his attention to the Fearling sliding along the tunnel towards him. Something vaguely akin to humanoid in shape, its voice was reminiscent of snapping and glass crunching, its fangs clicking together like kitchen knives striking off each other. 

‘Burgess, you say?’ Rumpelstiltskin replied, raising an eyebrow. The Fearling nodded, more bone-snap, glass-crunch words spoken in the dimness of the tunnel. Rumpelstiltskin nodded, impressed. ‘It seems the wild goose chase wasn’t so hopeless after all. Get the others, and get to Burgess before the Guardians catch wind of this.’

The Fearling nodded, and disappeared into the darkness.

Rumpelstiltskin turned and stared at the doorway to the Warren one last time, something dark in his expression, before he turned away and flexed his fingers minutely. Around him, the entire tunnel collapsed, rock and dirt imploded with a rumbling crash into nothingness, until he stood on the precipice of a tiny ledge that emptied into an abyss beyond what the eye could see. The barrier pressed against his back, as if it knew of his nature and wanted him to take the step forward and fall.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and raised it to eye level, watching it tremble. He straightened his jacket before he returned his hand to his pocket, and disappeared.


	15. Through

Jamie flicked through the texts from his friends, all of them coming up short on anything that could lead them to Mother Goose. He sighed, tossing his phone down the bed and folded his hands behind his head as he stretched out, staring up at the ceiling. Restless, he pulled himself up from his bed and wandered out into the hallway. Passing his mother’s bedroom door, he paused, hearing the agitated one-half of a conversation through the ajar door.

‘…I just don’t know what to do, Anne. He’s secretive, he’s moody.’ She laughed bitterly after a pause. ‘Anne, it’s not just becoming a teenager. He was caught staring into a girl’s room and he blames it on Jack Frost or the Bogeyman or… something.’

She sighed, her voice heavy and wrung out. ‘I don’t know Anne. I find myself thinking more and more about, maybe if Dan were still alive-’

Jamie moved away from the door, heading downstairs and into the lounge, where Sophie had left the TV on. He grabbed the remote from the arm of the sofa and toppled over it, belly flopping onto the cushions and jabbed the buttons with more force than necessary, bringing up the TV guide and scrolling down to the news channels. Clicking the first one on the list, he dropped the remote onto the floor and let his mind drift, trying to pull ideas and answers from anything he could remember about his search.

His mind came up blank, and he scrubbed at his eyes in frustration, focusing back on the TV as the news reported warned of an increase in seasonal illnesses and preventative measures that people could take to avoid them. He scrunched up his nose, patted around for the remote, and changed the channel up only to be met with the aftermath of earthquakes in places he couldn’t pronounce, changed the channel again to be greeted with reports on hospital admittance soaring, the medics wearing hazmat suits to protect themselves. Strange illnesses that no one could positively diagnose flooded channel after channel, interjected with reports of increased activity of natural disasters, giant sink holes opening up in the earth with no explanation, as if the ground had just disappeared overnight.

He pushed himself up from the sofa, dropping the remote again and wandered out into the hall, heading for the front door. He needed fresh air, even if all he did was sit of the porch. His mother had given him the silent treatment since he’d snuck out yesterday, and he didn’t have the energy to try finding ways to make amends. Whoever or whatever Rumpelstiltskin was, his effect on the world was starting to get noticed, even if no one would believe he was behind it.

Grabbing his coat, he swung it around his shoulders and pushed his arms through the sleeves as he shouldered the door open, Abby following him out and bounding down the steps into the garden as he sank down onto the first step, folding his arms over his bent knees and resting his chin on them. He stared out over the garden without really seeing it, a heavy tiredness settling over him. He’d had it since the Shtriga chased him down the street on Friday night, unable to get rid of the sick feeling that resided in the pit of his stomach. The door rattled again as Sophie pattered out onto the porch and sat down beside him, kicking her legs out so they stretched down the stairs.

‘Has Jack came back yet?’

‘No, not yet.’

Sophie sighed in disappointment, and Jamie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Jack’s snow still lay thick and heavy on the ground, patterned with footprints and deep trails where Abbey bounded through it. The slush and ice from the roads was piled high along the curbs, the pavements and roads empty of people. He looked up at the heavy grey sky, the dark clouds rolling overhead and felt the melancholy that had taken residence in town settle over him.

His brow furrowed, staring at the clouds.

They were moving against the wind.

He stood up abruptly, surprising Sophie.

‘Jamie?’

‘One second, Soph,’ he replied, jumping down the steps two at a time and rushing over to the tree at the end of their garden. Taking a running leap for the lowest branch, he pulled himself up onto it and climbed till he ran out of branches that could hold his weight and looked out over the rooftops around him.

He squinted at the tumultuous clouds blanketing the sky, staring out to the very edge of the horizon where rolling waves of thick fog crashed into town. The wind whistled in his ears, drowning out the mundane sounds of the town around him that would usually be carried on it. It isolated him in the tree boughs, watching the clouds converge on Burgess, swirling above them like a gathering storm. He turned, looking in all directions, seeing the same thing when his eyes caught a movement, beyond the north border of the town. He spun, leaning out as far as he could, when he saw it through the heavy grey fog.

A giant, hulking shadow towered over the town like it was a toy set, its multiple arms and legs like skyscrapers, supporting a porcupine-spined body. A thick, dragon like tail balanced its colossal size, and upon its head were rows of long, spiralled horns. It turned its head, and Jamie met its four glowing yellow eyes through the fog.

He gasped in fright, and back tracked down the tree. Jumping down to the ground, he ran back to Sophie.

‘Sophie, come on, we need to get inside,’ he said as he grabbed her arm and pulled. She resisted, and Jamie stopped, turning to her. ‘Sophie! Sophie, come on, we need to warn the others!’

Sophie didn’t move. Jamie returned to her side, staring down at her. Behind them on the porch, Abby growled.

‘Sophie, what’s wrong?’ he asked. He followed her line of sight over to the garden gate, and jumped.

A man stood at the gate.

He was smartly dressed in a grey suit, like he was just about to go to work. He wore no overcoat against the chill, unperturbed by it. His dark hair was slicked back from his long, pointed face and he smiled friendly enough to them. His eye sockets were empty.

‘Hello, children,’ he said.

Jamie stepped in front of Sophie, raising his arms to shield her. The man cocked an eyebrow, his smile tilting up into a smirk.

‘It’s him,’ Sophie whispered behind Jamie. ‘Rumpelstiltskin.’

Jamie couldn’t refute her. He suddenly felt hollow, his mind going blank, as if he was standing on the edge of a precipice ready to swallow him up and the only thought he had was to jump. Darkness coalesced overhead as the air grew colder, electrified as the man’s empty eyes bore into them, like a scientist pondering over his specimens. His smile widened.

‘I suppose a little glamour trick wouldn’t be enough to fool the likes of you, little light,’ he said, cocking his head to one side. ‘Now, you’ve clearly been acquainted with the name everyone believes to know me as, perhaps you would return the favour and give me yours?’

‘Don’t tell him,’ Sophie whispered fiercely, fisting her hands in Jamie’s shirt. He pushed her, trying to nudge her towards Abby and get them back into the house. She clung on, refusing to move, peeking out around him to stare at Rumpelstiltskin. Jamie swallowed, trying to be brave as he found his voice again.

‘You should leave.’

‘Should I?’ Rumpelstiltskin asked. ‘I think you’ll find that this is exactly where I should be.’

‘You can’t come any closer,’ Jamie ordered, scrambling for anything about the supernatural he had tucked away in his mind. Rumpelstiltskin laughed, shaking his head.

‘I’m not one of the Fae, little believer,’ he said, reaching out one hand and resting it on the top of the gate. Jamie tensed, pushing Sophie back as he retreated, closer to the house. Behind him, Abby snarled. His heart thumped against his chest, fear rising in his throat. He readied himself to shout for Jack, a last ditch attempt against Rumpelstiltskin, when a shout from down the road drew their attention.

‘Hey, kids! Yoohoo!’ Sonja called, waving to them, brightly coloured Christmas wreaths looped over her arms and carried in plastic bags in her gloved hands. Her face glowed red under her hat, her breaths forming white clouds in front of her face with every heavy exhale. She stopped in front of their gate, leaning on it as she caught her breath. Rumpelstiltskin stepped away from her, his hand dropping from the top of the gate, eyeing the wreaths contemptuously.

‘Hello there,’ Sonja breathed cheerfully, ignoring Rumpelstiltskin as she smiled at the siblings. ‘I’m just on my way around town dropping these off.’ She held up the wreaths. ‘Is your mother in?’

‘Um, I’ll take them,’ Jamie said, glancing between Sonja and Rumpelstiltskin. Sonja followed his gaze, doing a double take of Rumpelstiltskin. She blinked in surprise, as if she had just realised he was standing there.

‘Can I help you?’

Jamie and Sophie looked between them, startled.

‘You can _see_ him?’ Sophie gasped.

‘That’s rude,’ Sonja chastised gently, glancing at her before turning her attention to Rumpelstiltskin.

‘Oh, don’t worry about it, dearie,’ he replied with a smile. ‘Children just say whatever comes to mind, they mean no harm by it. Even a blind man like me can see that.’

'Glamour,' Jamie whispered through clenched teeth to Sophie.

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. ‘Now, I was just looking for the nearest hotel to check into. The holidays and all that.’

‘Oh? Visiting family?’

‘No one you would know,’ Rumpelstiltskin evaded.

‘Oh, I doubt that. I know everyone in this town,’ Sonja replied. Rumpelstiltskin blinked, staring at her. There was a strange pause, before Sonja turned back to Jamie and Sophie, her smile still in place. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I just hang this one right… here.’

She hooked a wreath over a nail in one of the planks, securing it with a spare length of twine hanging off the back of the wreath. She stepped back, gesturing at it with a flourish. ‘Ta-da. There you go. That’ll keep things looking nice and festive! How about you hang this one on your garden gate around back and you’ll be set! Okay?’

She held out the second wreath over the fence, stretching her arm out as far as it could go for Jamie to take it. Jamie swallowed, glancing at Sophie before he inched forward. Holding his breath and keeping his eyes on Rumpelstiltskin, he reached out and snatched the wreath from Sonja’s hand. Backing away, he released the breath he was holding, clutching the wreath close to his chest. Sonja dropped her hand away, shuffling the bags around in her arms to balance them all.

‘Anyhoo, I best be off to deliver the rest of these, and you best get inside else you’ll catch your death,’ she suggested, waving them inside. ‘Go on, off you pop.’

‘But, Granny Burgess-’ Sophie began in warning, but Jamie squeezed her hand, shushing her as Sonja turned back to Rumpelstiltskin.

‘I think you’d be better finding somewhere a little farther out of town,’ she suggested in a way that held no room for arguments. ‘So close to Christmas, you’ll find it rather difficult to find a free room in town.’

‘Oh? You’re sure about that?’

‘Yes.’

Her tone was light, but firm, and had a hidden edge that might have been a warning. Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at her. ‘Must have inside knowledge, hmm? Family working in one of them, perhaps?’

Sonja’s smile didn't falter, keeping her gaze steady. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of further help. Perhaps I could lead you to the bus stop or taxi rank to see you on your way?’

Rumpelstiltskin seemed to take the hint, smiling charmingly and tipping an invisible hat to her. ‘No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, ma’am. I can still manage my way around, get what I need. You should never underestimate me, despite appearances.’

‘I think that’s something that should be kept in mind about everyone,’ she replied. There was another tense pause.

‘That is true,’ he said slowly, studying her closely. ‘You say all the hotels are full, hmm? Well, then, I will just be on my way to find other lodgings.’

He bowed his head to her, before turning to stare at Jamie and Sophie one last time, as if only just remembering they were still there. ‘Take care now. Enjoy the remainder of your holiday.’

He turned away and strode down the street without looking back, the tension easing as he disappeared, until Jamie no longer felt the vertigo Rumpelstiltskin evoked. He clutched the wreath close to his chest, his eyes trained along the empty street in case Rumpelstiltskin suddenly changed his mind and came after them again.

‘Jamie.’ Jamie tore his eyes away from the street, back to Sonja. She stared at him with an unreadable expression, before she nodded up to their door. ‘Both of you best get back inside. And remember not to speak to strangers, da? Especially such strange men, you don't know who they are.'

'We know who he is,' Sophie said.

'Sophie, shut up!' Jamie whispered, nudging her with his elbow.

'It's okay, Granny Burgess. We won't,' he promised. He gripped Sophie’s hand and pulled her along behind him, dragging her back up to the house as fast as he could. He didn’t look back or let go till they were both inside, Abby trailing them, and he slammed the door behind them with more force than he intended. He leaned against it, exhaling heavily, and turned to Sophie.

‘We gotta get the Guardians,’ he said, pushing away from the door. ‘Come on, Soph.’

‘How?’ she said, following him. ‘We don’t have anything that we can use to talk to them.’

Jamie paused at the stairs, rubbing his chin in thought. ‘Pitch was here three nights ago, he said he could sense my fear. He did the same at Jack’s lake. What if we called him?’

‘You want to call the _B_ _ogeyman_?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he said, unconvincingly. ‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’

‘But you were plenty scared just now and he didn’t show up,’ she argued. Jamie paused, thinking.

‘Maybe I just need to focus on him when I’m scared. Call out to him, maybe?’ he suggested. Sophie frowned, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. Jamie squared his shoulders, committed to his plan despite his own lack of faith in it. ‘Come on, help me find a way to get him here.’

He bounded up the stairs, Sophie following close behind as he tried to figure out how to summon Pitch.

* * *

‘No way,’ Jack laughed, biting down on his knuckles to avoid drawing attention to the group holed up in the rafters above everyone’s heads. Peter grinned, perched precariously on the beam opposite Jack. Jack-O lay stretched out next to him, propped up against the support column Pumpkin Head was wrapped around, and the three sisters sat along the length of the wooden beam between the boys, listening to the story even though they had already heard it before.

‘I did, swear I did, didn’t take too much pixie dust to get that old croc out the water and into the air,’ Peter said, using his hands to play out his story in front of them. ‘Hook heard the ticking, and of course lifted anchor to set sail, trying to run away from it. Of course he didn’t think to look _up_ , and before he knew it—’

Peter made an explosion noise, his hands flying apart as he let them all imagine a fifteen foot long flying crocodile crash landing on a ship among a hoard of panicking pirates. Peter grinned, his small upturned nose wrinkling as he smiled, jabbing his finger downwards. ‘Jolly Roger sank, took all those rotten pirates down with it. I offered Hook and his crew to surrender in exchange for saving them. He agreed, and of course I won the battle! We had to change our plans for the next few weeks, though, since he had to rebuild his ship.’

‘And the crocodile?’

‘He came back down. Eventually.’

‘Spent the next week terrorising Hook from the air,’ Jack-O snorted, leaning back against the rafter and clasping his hands behind his head. Jack turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.

‘You’ve been to Neverland?’

Jack-O nodded, winking at him. ‘Yep. Got a VIP pass any time I want. Hell, I practically run the place, come up with all the best ideas, yeah?’

‘You do not!’ Peter argued, thumping his outstretched leg with his fist. ‘You haven’t been to Neverland in _ages_!’

‘Uh, Jack-O,’ Jack added. ‘I think you’ll find that’s _only_ because I’m not around for the fun.’

‘Oh, y’ think so?’ Jack-O challenged. He pushed himself away from the rafter and drew his knees up, leaning his arms across them. ‘You know what, I think we’ll just have to test that theory, yeah? You and me, in the Ultimate Battle of Fun.’

‘Fight, fight, fight!’ Autumn chanted, bouncing her fists off her knees.

‘You’re on!’ Jack said, tipping his staff towards Jack-O. Jack-O clacked his own against the crook of Jack’s staff in lieu of a handshake, grinning widely.

‘Yeah! You should all come back to Neverland!’ Peter exclaimed, back flipping in the air and landing on his toes, bouncing on them. ‘We can have adventures with the Indians and battle the pirates and have races and games and camp out in the Haunted Woods.’

‘And make a little mischief here and there,’ Jack-O added.

‘Sounds to me like a well-deserved vacation after we deal with Rumpelstiltskin,’ Jack said, dropping his legs on either side of the rafter and swung them back and forth. He rolled his staff between his hands as he watched the spirits below him pour over maps and swap information between themselves. Several more groups had been sent out to scour their territories when the others had come back empty handed. No one had come searching for the Heralds, or Peter or Jack-O, so they remained, lying in wait and eavesdropping on the spirits for a trail to follow.

‘Not to mention some actual appreciation you’d get for doing your thing, yeah?’ Jack-O added. Jack’s smile fell.

‘Jack-O!’ Autumn hissed, leaning over and punching his shoulder. He winced, rubbing it with one hand.

‘Hey, Jack the lad, I’m sorry,’ he said, looking over at Jack. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, yeah?’

‘It’s okay, Jack-O,’ Jack said after a pause. ‘You’re not exactly _lying_.’

North thought he was going to break down and become a liability at any moment. Mother Nature thought he was nothing more than a nuisance. The Snow Queen had decided he was a disappointment, and Nightlight hated him. Stuck between being a Guardian and being the spirit of Winter, he couldn’t do anything right. He pulled his knees up to his chest and drew his hood up, his mood soured. The others looked between themselves, at a loss for words.

‘Do you, uh, you wanna talk about it?’ Jack-O asked awkwardly, resting his chin on his folded arms. He clearly wasn’t accustomed to having serious conversations about feelings. Fun times and mischief making didn’t exactly make good company for melancholy.

Jack raised his chin, letting his head fall back against the support beam and shook his head with a long, heavy sigh. ‘Nah, don’t want to weigh you down with my baggage.’

‘Pfft, if there’s one thing everyone has in common, is they got baggage, yeah,’ Jack-O said, lifting one finger and tapping his pumpkin mask. Jack rolled his head to the side, watching Jack-O. Autumn reached over and ruffled Jack-O's hair.

‘Can I ask…?’ Jack began, and Jack-O offered him a small smile.

‘Yeah, Jack my lad, it’s not like it’s a big secret,’ he said, scratching his face. ‘But, uh, you know how I’m scared of Pitch? Other than the obvious reason of him being the Bogeyman?’

He reached up with his hands and unclasped the mask’s bindings: a leather strap that followed his hairline under unruly waves that split into three along the edge of his pumpkin mask. Pulling it away from his face, he twisted around and turned his head so Jack could see the full length of his face.

Jack hissed in a breath, wincing at the sight of the long, jagged black scar that stretched down the right side of Jack-O’s face from temple to jaw, splintering off into smaller, ragged cracks across his skin along its length. It gaped open like a fresh wound, and if Jack leaned in to look close enough, he could see dark, twisting things bubble and writhe in the deep gash. ‘What the…?’

‘Word o’ advice, Jack,’ Jack-O said, letting his mask hang idly in one hand. ‘Don’t get too close to those shadows Pitch likes to play with, yeah? They leave more than just a nasty scar.’

Jack recalled the arrow that had pierced Sandy’s heart, the darkness swallowing him whole. He hadn’t stopped to think that Pitch could do that to other spirits. He stared open mouthed at the scar, horrified as it seemed to shift and twist under the light in the workshop.

Jack-O smiled, watching Jack with half lidded eyes. ‘Not a pretty sight, is it?’

Jack blinked, realised he was staring and quickly looked away, embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to-’

‘Nah, you’re fine,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Serves as a pretty good reminder, yeah?’

‘Of what?’

Jack-O clicked his tongue against his teeth, smiling ruefully as he looked up at the ceiling. Huffing, he shook his head and finally met Jack’s eye. ‘Some time ago, a couple of centuries, maybe I… I had an idea. For Halloween. Y’know I’m always trying to outdo myself, trying to make the next big scheme even bigger and I got it into my head, yeah, that kids… well, they can enjoy being scared if it’s done right, yeah? And, Halloween is the perfect time for it, that they can laugh and joke over being scared and I decided who better to ask for help than the one and only Bogeyman.’

Jack covered his eyes with one hand, staring at Jack-O through his fingers. He already sensed where the story was leading, but didn’t interrupt as Jack-O continued.

‘He thought it was a great idea, he seemed really into it, yeah? So we set up our plan and everything was going great. I was really riding high, I was totally in the _zone_. But then, well, that dude should not be allowed around kids, yeah? Things turned bad real fast, and, y’know, there is no way I’m a Guardian or anything, but just, putting kids in danger like that… not cool. Really not cool, so… y’know… we got into a fight, and he’s way stronger than me. Even without a lot of kids believing, and, well, if it weren’t for Autumn here coming in at the nick of time…’ he trailed off, a far off look on his face before he snapped out of it, shaking his head and his face lit up into a cheerful smile again. ‘Anyway, that’s it, really. “I fought the bogeyman and all I got was this lousy scar.” Yeah?’

He strapped the mask back to his face, adjusting it till it was comfortable again and leaned back against the column. Pumpkin Head crawled onto his shoulder, wrapping his vines around his chest and arm, grumbling low in his ear. Jack-O petted him lightly while Jack watched them, unsure what to say. Jack-O saw him looking, and laughed.

‘Jack my lad, don’t look so gloomy. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.’

Jack half-smiled. ‘Close enough.’

‘But not quite.’ Jack-O winked. ‘So, since sharing is caring, what’s your story with the Guardians? I figured being part of the dream team was a pretty sweet deal.’

‘Yeah, I thought so, too,’ Jack said. He sighed, scratching his head. ‘Obviously they just needed a stand in until the guy they _really_ needed showed up again.’

‘That white haired guy I saw in the study?’ Jack-O asked. ‘About this tall and real sour looking with a staff like yours, looks like he has an extra one shoved up his ass?’

Jack snorted a laugh. ‘Yep. That’s him. He’s obviously not too happy his substitute is still hanging around.’

‘Mate, there’s no way he has a patch on you,’ Jack-O said, shaking his head. ‘No way.’

Jack shrugged. ‘It doesn’t look that way to the Guardians. I’m pretty sure they think-’

‘Jack! Look out!’ April cried.

Jack jumped, jerking upright where he sat as shadows rose up and swallowed him whole. The rafter fell away from under him and he was enveloped in darkness, the Seasons’ cries calling to him as if from a great distance until they disappeared in the darkness surrounding him. It suffocated him, squeezed him tight with bruising force and he panicked, trying to break free from the all-consuming darkness, his skin prickling with a burning itch, like thousands of bugs crawling over him. The pressure built the more he panicked, when he realised he wasn’t alone.

A presence clung to his back, wrapping long limbs around his chest and shoulders, keeping him pinned. It wasn't the only thing in the dark with him: other things moved in the blackness, the stink of rotten meat and bones and putrid blood invading his nose and making him gag. He heard them breathe, hot, wet, panting breaths, could feel them hovering just out of reach. They moved through the darkness like oil slicks through water, unaware of his presence as they chattered and shrieked and growled until it was nothing but white noise in his ears.

He couldn’t have been falling for more than a few seconds, although it felt like hours, when he saw a pinprick of light in the dark in front of him. It got bigger as he careened towards it, so blinding white he had to close his eyes, and he fell with a thump into a mound of snow.

He pushed himself up, leaping to his feet and scratching at his arms and the back of his neck, dragging his hands through his hair to try ridding himself of the feeling of bugs crawling over him. His staff lay a few feet away, half buried in the snow. Pitch stood beyond that, in the shadows of a tree, leaning against the trunk as he watched Jack flail.

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t that bad. They didn’t even notice us.’

‘What exactly was " _it"_? Who’s "they"?’ Jack demanded, shivering at the lingering phantom itch across his skin. He scratched his head one more time, shaking off his arms and legs and walked over to his staff. Picking it up, he twirled it around his fingers as he looked around, instantly recognising the woods they were in. He frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Pitch. ‘Why are we in Burgess?’

‘Your little last light is afraid,’ he said, pushing himself away from the tree. He shrugged. ‘I brought you through the shadows. It was the fastest way to get here, despite the risk the darkness catching scent of us while we were in there.’

‘Jamie’s in trouble?’ Jack repeated. His stomach dropped, his fear rising as a cold lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. He had left them. He had left them alone to fend for themselves after the Fearlings had swarmed around his lake with no way of knowing if any more were still lurking. He had had a chance to come back when he had offered North to do something and he hadn’t. How could he have been so _stupid_?

‘ _Stop_ that!’ Pitch snarled, snapping Jack out of his rising panic. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut as if he had a headache, his lips twisted down at the corners in a pained grimace. Jack blinked, staring at him before he realised the problem.

‘Am I broadcasting again?’ he asked, wringing his hands around his staff. ‘Can’t you just… not read my fears?’

‘I can usually tune fears out if I need to,’ Pitch said through gritted teeth, opening his eyes to glare at Jack. ‘Yours prove difficult when you’re practically _screaming_ them at close range.’

‘Sorry,’ Jack said, impatient. ‘But we need to get to Jamie. Come on.’

He spun around and ran in the opposite direction, ready to take flight when Pitch grabbed his hood, yanking him back and pulling him behind the tree he had been leaning against.

‘Pitch! What the hell?’

‘Shh,’ Pitch hissed, peering around the tree.

‘Pitch! I swear if you’re tricking me like you did the last time, I’ll-’ Pitch slammed his free hand over Jack’s mouth, his palm pressed forcefully against his face. His short, ragged nails dug into Jack’s skin, and Jack tilted his head back, glaring at him. He reached up to pry Pitch’s hand away when the dry snap of a heavy branch stopped him, and he froze. Even Pitch tensed, flattening himself against the tree trunk. Glancing down at Jack, he pursed his lips in a silent “shh”, twisting his head to peer around the edge of the tree.

Jack swallowed, shifting against him and he turned with him, following Pitch’s line of sight out into the woods. He scanned between the trees for strange shadows, like the ones that had chased him to the Snow Queen. His eyes narrowed in the dim light when he saw it amble through the wood on squat, heavy legs, like a toad. It’s fat, bulbous body dragged a heavy, barbed tail behind it, it’s back lined with razor sharp spines. It’s wide lizard mouth opened in a yawn, revealing row upon row of long, curving fangs. It stood twice as high as a grizzly bear, six eyes set on the side of its head roving across the forest floor. It sniffed the air, drawing in deep, heavy breaths through the thin slits above the ridge of its lips.

Jack sucked in a breath, grabbing Pitch’s wrist tightly, his heart leaping up his throat. Pitch squeezed him tighter, eyeing him in warning. His fear ratcheted up as the Hivemind swung its whole body back and forth, scanning the woods, before it snuffed a breath and carried on, disappearing out of sight.

Pitch released Jack, slumping against the tree and Jack stumbled away from him, gasping for breath. Jack bowed over, his hands on his knees as he tried to stop the shaking wracking his body. He looked up at Pitch, who had his eyes closed, his head fallen back against the tree. He pressed his hand flat against his sternum, breathing ragggedly. Jack dropped his head, unable to keep it up and stared at the unbroken white snow beneath him, his breathing slowly calming.

‘Another Hivemind?’ Jack asked. Pitch said nothing, his laboured breathing Jack’s only answer. Jack exhaled heavily, and willed himself to straighten up and face Pitch. ‘Are you alright?’

Pitch still didn’t say anything for a while. He swallowed audibly, his throat clicking. His breathing levelled slower than Jack wanted, when Hiveminds were wandering around Burgess and Jamie was afraid. Eventually, Pitch pushed himself away from the tree, and trudged over to Jack.

‘Come along,’ he said, his voice devoid of his usual bite. ‘We need to get to your little light.’

Jack stepped back when Pitch reached for him, glaring at him suspiciously. ‘ _Not_ through the shadows.’

Pitch’s lips quirked up in semblance of a smirk, and raised his hands in truce.

‘Not through the shadows,’ he said, nodding his head in the direction of Jamie’s house. He spread his hands out around him, and swung them up into the air. Black sand swirled around him, and he threaded his hands through it, guiding it till it formed the shape of a horse beside him, with glowing golden eyes and tusks jutting from its mouth, and barbed spines for a mane. He pulled himself up onto it, settling comfortably on it without a saddle. ‘Come along.’

Jack nodded, and hopped up onto the wind, speeding towards Jamie’s house. Pitch followed close behind on his Nightmare, its footsteps silent across the snow as they rushed out of the woods and through the town. The sky above them was dark and grim, heavy black clouds spiralling overhead, the town muted with a sense of oncoming disaster. The streets were eerily quiet, even for a Sunday afternoon, and Jack couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched from the shadows between buildings. He dropped down level with Pitch, flying through the air beside him. ‘What are you feeling from Jamie?’

‘His fear is quite strong, and growing. I don’t feel like its life or death, though,’ Pitch explained. ‘It doesn’t taste as… raw. Bitter, perhaps, like lemons.’

Jack didn’t understand what Pitch was talking about, so said nothing. He didn’t let his guard down, despite Pitch’s assurances, refusing to relax until he was sure Jamie was safe.

Approaching Jamie’s house when they finally rounded the corner onto his street, it appeared undisturbed. Jack leapt over the back gate, swinging up towards Jamie’s room window when the Nightmare whinnied behind him, hooves scraping against the wet pavement as it skid to a halt. Jack looked over his shoulder to see it stopped outside the gate, stamping its hooves and swinging its head back and forth. Pitch looked around its thick neck in confusion, trying to see what had made it halt so suddenly.

‘Pitch?’ Jack called back. Pitch shook his head, beckoning him onward.

‘Go. Something is stopping me from entering.’

‘Stay there,’ Jack ordered, before flying up to Jamie’s window. It was ajar, and Jack pushed it open, rushing inside. He kept his staff drawn up, ready to defend himself and his believers if something were to attack. He opened his mouth to call Jamie’s name when he stopped short, blinking in confusion when he saw them.

Jamie stood at the headboard of his bed, on the pillows, trying to arch away from Sophie, who held a large jar in her hands. She pushed it towards Jamie, and he squashed himself closer to the wall, trying to keep away from it. A large black spider sat in the jar, its two front legs raised in defence as it got shaken about in its glass prison.

‘Come on, Jamie, you have to be more scared!’ Sophie said. ‘Should I take it out of the jar?’

‘NO!’

‘Jamie?’ Jack asked. Jamie whipped his head round, his eyes falling on Jack and his terror transformed into relief.

‘Jack!’

Sophie whipped her head round, distracted from her task. A wide smile broke out on her face and she set the jar down on the bedside table, running over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, squeezing tight. He hugged her back distractedly, looking around the room for any dangers: finding none, he looked back to Jamie, who hopped off the bed, giving the spider-jar a wide berth.

‘You came! Is Pitch here? How did you know to come?’ he asked.

‘Did you bring Bunny with you?’ Sophie asked, looking up at him hopefully.

‘I… Pitch came and got me,’ Jack explained, looking between them. ‘He said you were afraid of something, we thought you were in trouble. No, I didn’t bring Bunny with me. Sorry, Soph.’

Sophie pouted, and Jack dropped down to his knees and hugged her tight, patting her on the back. ‘It’s okay, I’ll let him know you miss him and he has to come and give you a big hug as soon as he can, okay?’

‘Okay,’ she agreed, nodding as she hugged him back, her arms swung around his neck. Jack remembered Pitch was still waiting outside, and looked up at Jamie over Sophie’s shoulder.

‘Pitch can’t get through the gate. He said something is stopping him?’ he asked. Jamie looked confused, before realisation dawned on his face.

‘Oh, wait, I think I know what did it,’ he said. ‘But we have to go outside anyway, you both need to hear this. Come on.’

He beckoned Jack to follow, and Jack released Sophie and hurried after him, Sophie following close behind as they ran downstairs and out the back door into the garden. Pitch stood waiting sullenly by the gate, his Nightmare nowhere in sight. He glared at Jamie as he ran up to the gate, looking down at the wreath in disgust.

‘Rowan tree clippings? Really?’ he sneered.

‘I guess? The wreath was a gift, anyway,’ Jamie explained, shaking his head and waving his hands in front of his face. ‘The wreath doesn’t matter.'

He looked between Pitch and Jack when he caught up, Sophie clinging to his hand and eyeing Pitch from behind Jack’s knee. ‘Rumpelstiltskin's here. He’s in Burgess.’

‘ _What_?’

‘So are the Nightmares, there’s huge ones patrolling the outskirts of town,’ Jamie added. ‘But they haven’t come into town, no closer than the edges.’

‘Those aren’t Nightmares, those are Fearlings. Hiveminds,’ Pitch said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘They can’t come into town without risking hurting children directly. It would go against the deal.’

‘But why are they here all of a sudden in such big numbers?’ Jack asked, looking between the kids and Pitch. ‘Why is Rumpelstiltskin here?’

Pitch narrowed his eyes as he stared at the ground, one hand covering his mouth while he considered the possibilities. His eyes widened, and he lifted his head to stare at Jack in disbelief.

‘Mother Goose,’ he whispered. Jack felt his jaw drop.

‘She’s here?’ he replied, hardly daring to believe it. Pitch’s eyes lit up, warm and gold as he tried to smother a growing smile, hiding it with his hand. Jack could feel his own elation building, a smile stretching across his face as he met Pitch’s eyes. Pitch nodded minutely, as if he didn’t dare want to admit it out loud.

Jack crowed, jumping in delight. Picking Sophie up, he leapt into the air and spun them around, whooping with joy. She squealed with laughter, holding on tight and kicking her legs through the air until Jack dropped back to earth, setting her down beside him. She continued to bounce on her feet and Jack turned to Jamie, holding him by the shoulders and grinning down at him.

‘We did it, Jamie! She’s here!’ Jack laughed, squeezing his shoulders. ‘In Burgess!’

Jack released him, dragging his hands through his hair as he began to pace back and forth to expel the sudden energy rush, before his thoughts caught up to him, and the joy he felt crashed around him. He stopped, his face dropping as he realised: ‘We don’t know who she is.’

He turned to Pitch, who had lost his smile, replaced with a look of confusion as he stared at Jack. Jack shook his head, his shoulders sagging in defeat. ‘This town is huge. And Rumpelstiltskin’s already gotten a head start on us. We don’t know who she is or where to start looking… Rumpelstiltskin could already be on his way to her and we’ll never know until it’s too late and-’

‘Jack,’ Pitch said, cutting him off. His eyes were squeezed shut, grimacing as he rubbed his temple.

‘Broadcasting. Right. Sorry.’

‘Start from what we do know,’ Pitch ordered. ‘Mother Goose is in Burgess. Rumpelstiltskin has suddenly taken an interest in Burgess instead on congregating his army here at the beginning, so she’s only just arrived.’

‘People would be travelling to see family for the holidays,’ Jack said, hopping up onto the fence and dropping into a crouch, perching on it. Pitch nodded.

‘True. So we can start at all the hotels and work from there,’ he said. He turned to Jamie, a thoughtful look on his face. ‘Mother Goose is essentially a Guardian of the Guardians and of the children, giving both a foundation to build belief upon. Can you think of anyone who would suit that description who has arrived in town over the last two days?’

‘Uh… yeah, actually,’ Jamie said after a moment. ‘Satu.’

Jack and Pitch stared at him blankly.

‘Elaborate,’ Pitch said.

‘Do you remember when I was out on the ice yesterday? She was the one who came out and rescued me,’ Jamie explained in a rush. ‘She used to be our babysitter. She’d tell us stories, and let us finish them if she ran out of time.’

‘A story teller,’ Pitch said, before adding, deadpan: ‘Named “Fairy-tale.” Original.’

‘The bogeyman is named "Pitch Black", you really want to talk originality?’ Jack asked, raising his eyebrows. Pitch stared at Jack and opened his mouth as if to say something, only to think better of it and closed it again. A strange look flickered across his face before he turned back to Jamie, his face schooled into a stern look of authority.

‘Where can we find her?’

‘Um…’

‘You don’t know where she lives?’

‘She might be staying at Darcy’s, or Grandma Burgess’s,’ Jamie said quickly, cringing under Pitch’s glare. ‘Darcy works at the Grand Hotel on South Street, she mentioned Satu had some hours there when we were walking home.’

‘Anywhere else?’ Pitch insisted. Jamie bit his lip, straining to think of anything he missed, and shook his head.

‘I can’t think of anywhere else she’d be, I don’t know,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry, Jamie,’ Jack said quickly, hopping off the fence. ‘You did great.’

‘Hopefully just in time,’ Pitch added. He turned his attention to Jack. ‘Get to the Grand Hotel. See if you can find her there. I’ll go through the shadows to those two addresses and see if she’s there.’

‘Do you need me to find them for you?’ Jamie offered.

‘As long as those houses have beds, I’ll find them,’ he said. ‘Now get back inside. Find a way to warn your little group of friends not to venture too far around town. Rumpelstiltskin has more than Fearlings at his disposal.’

‘Okay,’ he said, nodding. He grabbed Sophie’s hand, pulling her back towards the house. ‘Be careful!’

‘We will!’ Jack promised, hopping onto a breeze and hovering beside Pitch. ‘Will you be alright, going through the shadows?’

‘I have to, it’s the only way to scout more than one place in such a short period of time,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t be noticed if I’m fast enough. Now, what are you waiting around for? Go!’

Jack didn’t need telling twice, shooting up into the air and barrelling across town to the Grand Hotel as fast as he could. He didn’t risk slowing himself by looking back, inexplicably trusting Pitch not to harm the kids behind his back. He didn't have time to question his sudden trust in Pitch, pushing it from his mind as he focused on getting to Satu, to their Mother Goose.

The Grand Hotel rose above the surrounding buildings, set in its own ground with large gardens and a white walled exterior, lines of dead ivy vines winding their way up the walls that would be replaced come spring when the earth woke up again. He dropped onto the top step and hurried inside, the heavy oak doors kept open for ease of access during the day. Looking around the elegant reception area, with dark blue carpets and polished wood borders along the walls. A signpost directed him to the restaurant, the stairs and the elevator to the different floors and two conference halls down the long corridors either side of the reception desk.

He took the restaurant, slipping through the double doors just as two guests were leaving, careful not to let them walk through him. He paused, scanning the tables: it wasn’t overly busy, a lot of the tables still empty while the wait staff bustled between the ones that were occupied. There was a number of women among the staff, but none with the same pale platinum blonde that he recalled the young woman – Satu – having. Behind the bar, two people were serving drinks, passing plates of food over to the waiters and waitresses as they came through from the kitchen: he recognised one as the second woman he had seen yesterday, the one with obsidian curls and grey eyes that had been with Satu. She must be the Darcy who Jamie mentioned.

He manoeuvred his way to the bar, hopping over it to avoid the crowd and followed her along the length of it as she carted the empty bottles and glasses from the counter top.

‘Did Satu get everything sorted?’ the young man working with her asked as he stacked glasses in a dishwasher.

‘Yeah, Eliza was in today, so she snuck her paperwork through,’ she replied, handing him the used glasses. ‘She’s just getting changed in the back.’

‘Thank you,’ Jack muttered, catching sight of a door labelled “Staff Only” and hurried through it. Jogging down the stairs, he took a left towards the door with the symbol for ladies changing rooms on it. He hesitated outside it, disliking the idea of wandering into a woman’s changing room. The hallway was dim though, lit only by a row of low wattage lights at long intervals down it, and two of them were broke, creating plenty of shadows for things to creep through.

He huffed under his breath, and slapped one hand over his eyes. ‘Please be dressed, please be dressed…’

He pushed the door open and stepped through, risking peeking out between two fingers to see if anyone was around. Rows of lockers ran all the way along two of the walls and to the back of the room, wooden slatted benches pushed between them. Bags and purses and shoes were scattered around the floor, shoved on top of lockers or under the benches. Half the lockers didn’t have locks, hanging ajar on their hinges. The room seemed deserted as he carefully made his way to the back, where the wash up area was situated.

‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Satu?’

He continued down the aisle, glancing left and right for any sign of her. ‘Don’t freak out. I promise I’m not a creep. I just want to talk to you. It’s really, really important.’

He heard someone humming from behind the last row of lockers, and paused at the edge of it. Keeping his hand in front of his eyes, barely a gap between his fingers to see through, he peeked around the corner of the lockers and saw Satu standing over one of the sinks, focused on braiding her long wavy hair, humming a tune under her breath. 

‘Oh wow, am I glad to see you,’ Jack breathed in relief, dropping his hand from his face when he saw she was completely dressed. ‘You have no idea how stressed we’ve been looking for you.’

Satu hummed under breath as she tied a bobble around her hair, and wrapped the braid around itself into a bun high on her head. Studying her reflection, she turned her head this way and that to check her hair. Jack stepped closer to her as she straightened her uniform and checking her reflection one last time, slipping her silver necklace under her black t-shirt. From the back of her neck, an elaborate inked eye stared at him. ‘Listen, this is going to sound really crazy, and I don’t even know where to begin, but there’s a lot of people who need you right now. You might not believe me, but if we could just get you to the North Pole and –’

He stopped short, sucking in a breath as pins and needles stabbed through his whole body, pain rippling across his skin. He blinked, gasping as he looked down at his chest in shock as Satu disappeared around the corner of the lockers.

She had walked right through him.

‘Oh no,’ he whispered. ‘No, no, no, no, no, no.’

He turned and bolted after her as she headed towards the door.

‘No, no, no,’ he pleaded. ‘Come on! Come on, you must see me! You’re Mother Goose! You’re supposed to be able to see us! You’re meant to be the one with the imagination! Come on!’

She continued walking, oblivious to him. He looked around wildly for inspiration, before he ran up behind her and blew on the back of her neck, chilling his breath to almost freezing.

That got a reaction; she gasped and scrunched her shoulders up to her ears. One hand flew to the back of her neck and rubbed it as she whirled around, looking for the source of the chill.

‘Yes! Come on,’ Jack encouraged her, hovering right in front of her, so close he could see the gold flecks amongst the green of her eyes. ‘Come on, I’m right here.’

Her eyes bore into him, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. She glanced up and sighed, relaxing and turned towards the door again. Jack looked up to where her eye had been drawn, saw the air conditioning unit fixed on the wall above his head.

‘You gotta be kidding me.’

He snapped his head round when he heard the door swing shut and growled under his breath, rushing after her.

‘Jack Frost, the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy,’ he listed, refusing to give up as he hovered in front of her. ‘The Sandman, the Bogeyman, the Fae, Mother Nature, the Snow Queen. Come on, we’re real! You must have some sort of belief in one of us! Please, we need you!’

She carried on walking, ascending the stairs to the restaurant without a glance back. Jack stopped at the foot of the stairs, his shoulders sagging as he watched her disappear into the restaurant.

'Shit, ' he cursed. 'Shit, shit, shit.' He ground the butt of his staff against the floor, and thumped his head against the crook. 'Okay. Okay, think. Think, think, think.'

He thumped his forehead against the wood in time with his mantra, beating an idea into his head, thoughts spinning through his mind in tangled threads of possibilities. His story had never been written by Mother Goose to begin with, but others had been given plenty of page time: hundreds of legends of the Bogeyman or the Fae or the Tooth Fairy, all around the world. They had a stronger foothold, a wider spread belief than he had. And the old Mother Goose knew about them plenty. He stopped hitting his head and straightened, looking around at the shadows of the hall.

‘Pitch,’ he whispered. If Pitch could physically travel through them, surely he could hear through them as well. ‘Pitch, can you hear me?’

A beat, then another, and then something moved out the corner of his eye. He threw himself sideways, raising his staff defensively as he pivoted. Pitch threw his hands up in truce, freezing in place as he stared at Jack, his golden eyes almost glowing in the dim light.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his staff and Pitch stepped out of the shadows completely, looking around.

‘What's wrong? Has something happened to Mother Goose?’ he asked, keeping his voice low.

‘No, she's up the stairs, in the restaurant,’ Jack explained, tilting the crook of his staff towards the door.

‘Well then, what are you waiting for?’ Pitch hissed. ‘Rumpelstiltskin could be on his way as we speak!’

‘She can’t see me!’ Jack whispered back furiously, unsure why they were keeping their voices low in the first place. Maybe he hoped she’d be able to hear Pitch, and didn’t want to be proven wrong just yet. ‘She walked right through me, I can’t do anything!’

‘ _What_?’ Pitch hissed. Jack nodded, and Pitch dragged a hand down his face. ‘Are you sure? She can’t see you at all?’

‘I think I know well enough whether or not someone sees me!’

‘What makes you think I’ll be different?’ Pitch demanded.

‘Mother Goose – Katherine – she hadn’t written my story yet,’ Jack explained, wringing his hands around his staff. ‘But she had written everyone else’s, including yours. She knew about you, she gave you your bridge, or foothold or whatever you have with humans. She knew about you. What if that, I don’t know, transferred over to the new Mother Goose?’

Pitch said nothing, staring at Jack. ‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ he said eventually. ‘But, if that’s the only thing we have right now. Though I doubt having this conversation with _me_ will put her at ease about the whole thing.’

‘You’re the only one who’s closest,’ Jack said. ‘I can’t risk leaving to get the Guardians.’

‘Come along, then,’ he said, climbing the stairs. Jack followed close behind, taking the stairs two at a time to keep up with Pitch.

‘If this works,’ Pitch said. ‘We’ll need to get her to the North Pole as quickly as possible. I don’t want to waste time explaining everything to her in neutral ground with Rumpelstiltskin running around. You create a distraction if necessary and run, get in the air and head back up to the pole. I’ll take her with me through the shadows.’

‘You’re just going to grab her? Are the shadows even safe for Mother Goose, right now?’

‘Do you have a _better_ plan?’

‘Hey, my plan was to find her and get her to see me. I didn’t exactly get that far,’ Jack defended.

‘Clearly,’ Pitch said, pushing the door open. ‘Which is why we need to get her back to people who can explain it better, without leaving her curled up in a frightened ball.’

‘You wouldn’t deliberately frighten her, would – oof!’ Jack choked, running into Pitch’s back as he stopped short in front of him. He stumbled back, shaking his head and rubbing his face. ‘What the hell, Pitch?’

‘Jack,’ Pitch said quietly.

‘What?’

‘I might have to frighten her,’ Pitch said. His hands curled into fists by his side, trembling.

‘What? Why-?’ He followed Pitch’s line of sight, and a cold wash of fear swept over him, his heart dropping to his stomach.

Rumpelstiltskin looked up from where he sat at the bar, and smiled at them.


	16. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another deal.

‘Pitch!’

Jack levelled his staff at Rumpelstiltskin as Pitch rushed towards Satu. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t even blink, staring at Jack. His hands tightened around his staff, the wood glowing blue white through the grain.

A scream made him jump, breaking his glare from Rumpelstiltskin to Pitch, who clutched his hands close to his chest. Pitch stared at Satu, slack jawed and wide eyed before his gaze turned to meet Jack’s, and Jack realised what had happened.

He had phased through Satu.

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, watching them. Helpless, Jack watched as Pitch instinctively stepped out of Satu’s path as she walked past him, towards Rumpelstiltskin. Time seemed to slow and Rumpelstiltskin’s smile grew, his empty black eyes growing larger in his face as Satu and the barman approached, unaware of the danger. Jack stood, frozen, unable to warn her or stop her, to keep her away from Rumpelstiltskin. Glancing between them, Jack considered attacking him; send him flying across the room with frost lightning to buy her some time. Only minutes, but maybe enough if he caused such damage to make everyone run and Rumpelstiltskin would lose her in the confusion.

He remembered the engulfing emptiness when he’s been swallowed by the HiveMind and when Hayley had walked through him. He remembered the pull of the void when Rumpelstiltskin had first appeared at the North Pole. Rumpelstiltskin could kill him, and, meeting his eye, Jack knew he would as soon as he moved.

Winter crackled through his bones and jumped across his skin, his knuckles white around the glowing wood that burned cold in his grip. The temperature around him dropped, frost mist hovering in the air around him. Rumpelstiltskin unfolded his arms, resting his palms on the bar counter. He flexed his fingers with the barest of movement, and Jack felt the pull again, as if he stood on the precipice of an abyss, an insidious whisper in his mind encouraging him to surrender to the dragging force of the emptiness. The hair on the back of his neck and along his arms rose, the air crackling with energy.

He could only give her one shot, a few minutes at most, so he’d have to make it count; he’d need all his power, and make it big. He took a breath, a familiar calming chill settling inside him, focus steadying his hand as he readied to spring.

Satu was nearly level with them, oblivious while she listened to her co-worker. Her eyes flitted across the bar, passing over each of them in turn. Jack looked at her one last time, a crushing hope sitting heavy in his chest that he could do enough to save her, to save everyone. He turned to Rumpelstiltskin, gritting his teeth as he drew his arm back –

‘ _Stay away from him_!’

Fear engulfed him, scouring his mind of all thoughts except a numbing terror that rendered him frozen where he stood. Bile rose in the back of his throat as nausea overtook him, pinpricks needling his skin like crawling insects. Even Rumpelstiltskin seemed shaken, a small shudder running through him. He blinked, long and slow, and turned to stare at Satu. Jack followed his gaze, and saw Pitch hovering over her shoulder, cloaked in the darkest of shadows. He pressed his lips close to the shell of her ear, his breath ghosting across her skin, carrying insidious whispers of fear, his golden glare pinned on Rumpelstiltskin.

Satu stopped, her eyes going wide. She wavered, and grabbed her co-worker’s arm, her free hand pressing against her forehead as she squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temple with her fingertips.

‘Satu?’ Oliver asked, his brow furrowing in concern as he stopped, gripping her shoulder.

She shook her head at the unasked question; dropping her hand away from her head, her eyes darting around the bar until they fell on Rumpelstiltskin. She narrowed them, jerking her head minutely in his direction. ‘Oliver, that guy at the bar…’

Oliver followed her line of sight, his face remaining impassive as he studied Rumpelstiltskin. Rumpelstiltskin stared back, cocking an eyebrow. Jack looked between them, confused as Oliver squeezed Satu’s shoulder as he turned back to her, smiling reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, customers come a little bit later in your induction. I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves on your first day.’

‘No, he’d wait till the wedding in a couple of weeks,’ Darcy joked from the other end of the bar, clearing dirty glasses from the counter. Oliver threw her a cheeky wink.

‘You’ll thank me later,’ he promised, even as he pulled on Satu’s arm until he was between her and Rumpelstiltskin, leading her towards Darcy. Pitch slid away from Satu, the shadows around him retreating and he fell into step beside Oliver, another barrier between Satu and Rumpelstiltskin. He gave Jack a pointed look, eyeing his staff as Jack’s power dissipated, and Jack dropped his staff to his side as he finally found his voice.

‘They can _see_ you?’

Rumpelstiltskin smiled.

 *

Darcy wiped her hands on the cloth she held, stuffing it in the back pocket of her trousers as she approached Rumpelstiltskin. Greeting her without hesitation, he ordered a glass of water from her and she set it down in front of him, guiding his hand to it before she turned to greet another customer. Rumpelstiltskin followed her out the corner of his eye, his gaze drawn to Satu and Oliver working together, Pitch hovering like a dark sentinel over them. Raising the glass to his lips, his brow furrowed when no water touched his lips. He brought the glass to eye level and saw a block of ice sitting in it instead, condensation clouding the cold glass.

Heaving a sigh as if greatly inconvenienced, he set the glass of ice down and cocked his head to one side, staring out the corner of his eye.

‘Evidently, manners are unnecessary for Guardianship,’ he said, eyeing Jack up and down where he perched on the bar stool next to him. ‘You think a little trick like that can stop me?’

‘You remember the Fearling you sent to the meeting the first time. You think _that_ was a “trick”?’

‘I think you’re wasting my time, stalling in the hope that somehow you’ll find a way to save her,’ he nodded in Satu’s direction, ‘and save yourselves.’

‘Except I already have,’ Jack replied. He jabbed he crook of his staff at Rumpelstiltskin, triumphant. ‘Find Mother Goose, get our memories back. Time to pay up.’

‘Indeed,’ Rumpelstiltskin agreed, resting his elbow on the bar counter and inspecting his nails. ‘Well, you’ve found her… any last words before I do to her what I did to the last one?’

He raised his free hand to eye level, a warning. Jack flew forward, his fingers wrapping around Rumpelstiltskin’s wrist, the victory disappearing from his face and replaced with panic.

‘No!’

‘No?’

‘I won’t let you hurt her!’ Jack said, tightening his grip.

‘You think you can stop me? You think you can actually win?’ Rumpelstiltskin demanded. He glanced between Jack and his hand, his upper lip curling in disgust. ‘Release my wrist.’

Jack glowered at him, dropping his hand away and, defiant, wiped his palm on his trousers, maintaining eye contact with Rumpelstiltskin while he did.

‘Charming, little pawn,’ Rumpelstiltskin drawled, straightening his cuff. ‘But you’re out of luck and out of time to make something out of _that_.’

He nodded towards Satu, who still had Pitch clinging to her like a second shadow, listening in on their conversation. Jack refused to turn around and risk taking his eyes off Rumpelstiltskin. Rumpelstiltskin chuckled behind closed lips, settling back in his seat. ‘I’m almost tempted to let you try.’

‘Why don’t you?’ Jack challenged.

‘Frost!’ Pitch snapped, in front of them in the blink of an eye, his body blocking Satu from Rumpelstiltskin’s line of vision. ‘Don’t do anything foolish.’

‘Rather late for that, I’m afraid,’ Rumpelstiltskin drawled, his eyes boring into Jack’s. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Same as before: we get time to make her believe, you get a memory for every day we fail,’ Jack rushed, fearful that Rumpelstiltskin would change his mind. He waited with bated breath on the edge of the bar stool as Rumpelstiltskin pursed his lips, resting his chin on his hand as he considered it. Even Pitch leaned forward over the bar, waiting for Rumpelstiltskin’s answer.

‘Nope,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘How boring; you bring nothing new to the table, so, I think this ends our negotiations.’

He stood from his seat, tugging at the hem of his jacket as he smiled at Jack. ‘Better luck next time. Well, maybe not. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

‘You can’t just go back on a deal just because you lost,’ Jack spat, twisting in his seat as Rumpelstiltskin stepped around him. Panic rose in his throat, his heart jumping against his ribs as he scrambled for a plan. ‘You can’t just _cheat_ and –’

‘I’m not going back on anything!’ Rumpelstiltskin snarled, his face inches away from Jack’s until his empty black eyes filled Jack’s vision. He jerked back on the stool, his back hitting the edge of the bar but Rumpelstiltskin followed, towering over him. Long, bony fingers dug into his shoulders, bruising his skin through his hoodie.

‘Even if she could see the pathetic scrap you are, the only thing remaining would be to _fight_ me! The deal never concluded with me bowing out gracefully and leaving this world alone. It never concluded with me _not_ killing her as soon as she showed up. I don’t _have_ to cheat when it comes to getting what I want, when it can so easily be handed to me on a silver plate by naïve, foolish little pawns like yourself who think their actions actually matter!’

‘You find Mother Goose, we meet on the battlefield. Tell me, how do you value your chances? Or do you honestly want that little bit extra time to flounder uselessly, because no matter what you do, it will just provide a source of amusement to me until the inevitable. This is a win-win situation for me, all that changes is the _when.'_

He calmed, his features rearranging themselves into an ordinary man’s face once again, the darkness receding. He pushed himself upright from the bar stool, dragging his fingers through his hair. 'So, little pawn, if you really want to waste my time by giving you a little bit extra, give me something worth _bargaining_ for.’

Jack stared up at him blindly, his fingers fisted in the material of his hoodie. His chest heaved as he tried to breathe instead of gasping, trembling in his seat. He realised in the midst of the mind numbing fear that fogged his mind that he was tipped far out to one side, nearly falling off his seat. It was only by the hands on his shoulders that spared him from dropping to the floor, and it wasn’t Rumpelstiltskin grabbing him, but Pitch, folded over the bar in the attempt to keep Jack upright. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, tears welling in the corners of them before he could stop them. He opened his mouth to speak, failed, and tried again, a high, thin sound rattling up his throat. He clenched his teeth together, covering his mouth with his hand as he choked, swallowing a sob.

Rumpelstiltskin returned to his seat, throwing an ankle over one knee and leaning back, clasping his hands in his lap. He cocked his head to the side, cooing. ‘Oh, poor little frost spirit. I can be rather overwhelming once you get to know me. Though, I must say, I don’t think Pitch has found it all that bad, hmm? Who doesn’t love dinner and a show?’

Jack hesitantly peered over his shoulder, but Pitch wasn’t looking at either of them, his head dropped onto his outstretched arms. His breathing was audible; ragged and shallow as his shoulders heaved, gulping down air by the lungful. His knuckles were white against the dark blue of Jack’s hoodie, his trembling hands wrenched into hooked claws on Jack’s shoulders. He swallowed wetly, like he was going to be sick, but didn’t make a sound other than that. Rumpelstiltskin, bored with him, turned his attention back to Jack.

'Probably ate a little too much,' Rumpelstiltskin said conversationally. 'Probably still are, by the look on our little frost spirit's face.'

Jack swallowed, lowering his hand from his face. He uncurled himself from his chair, gripping his staff in both hands. Pitch’s hands fell away from his shoulders, his arms dropping with a heavy thump against the bar and he folded them under his head, resting on them. Jack didn’t pay attention to him, unable to look at either of them as he pressed his forehead against the crook of his staff, staring off into the mid-distance. With a stuttering, shuddering breath, he forced his eyes to meet Rumpelstiltskin’s.

‘How crazy do you look to everyone,’ he said, his voice dry and cracked, rasping each barbed word, ‘talking to thin air?’

Pitch jerked his head up from his folded arms, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Jack with bloodshot eyes - he looked drunk. Drunk on Jack's fear. Jack ignored him, remaining defiant as Rumpelstiltskin picked up the frozen glass of water and swirled it around by his fingertips, pondering it for a moment before he chuckled under his breath.

‘Glamour,’ he replied. ‘And humans are idiots: all they’ve seen for the last twenty minutes is an old blind man sitting at the bar, pondering the world. And you still want to save them?’

‘Yes,’ Jack said, his voice stronger and steadier than he felt. ‘So let’s make a deal.’

‘Well, this is just perfect,’ Rumpelstiltskin said with a laugh, setting the glass down and rubbing his hands together. ‘The Guardians don’t know how good they have it. Between you and Pitch here, they don’t need many enemies.’

Jack winced, hunched over in his seat.

‘So, you want an extension?’ Rumpelstiltskin asked. ‘See if you can actually make something of her?’

‘You can’t hurt her while we try,’ Jack added.

‘I’ve got bigger fish to fry than one useless human,’ Rumpelstiltskin assured.

‘If we succeed, you leave and-’

‘No,’ Rumpelstiltskin interrupted, flicking his wrist as if swatting an irritating fly. ‘The original deal remains in place. Just because you made it in a panicked state doesn’t mean you get to change it now that you’ve had time to think. I won’t harm the girl, simply because I don’t care about her or whatever slim chance you have of succeeding. No, the only way you’re getting rid of me is if you do it yourself.’

‘Would you like to try, Jack?’ he asked. ‘You don’t have to renew the deal. You found Mother Goose. The Guardians will be so proud of you. Get the memory you lost back, rally the troops and come after me. Admittedly, you’ll die, but some of you might actually put up enough of a fight to last long enough to fade with your stories. Oh, and let’s not forget; the children will be up for grabs again. How many fronts can you fight on?’

Jack said nothing, glowering at Rumpelstiltskin. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Pitch shake his head, a tired look on his face.

‘Fine,’ Jack said. ‘The remaining deal stands. One memory for every day we fail to make Mother Goose into Mother Goose. The kids have to stay safe if you still want to target us –’

‘Actually, that was a consequence, not a stipulation,’ Rumpelstiltskin corrected.

‘Oh, yeah, remind me again what the actually exchange was?’ Jack replied, bristling.

‘See for yourself.’ He pointed with the glass to the TV over the bar. Jack hesitated, suspicious, before he cocked his head to the side and looked out the corner of his eye, keeping Rumpelstiltskin in his peripheral vision while he listened to the news report. Even Pitch craned his neck around to watch it.

The smart dressed, sombre looking reporter with painted lips and a bob cut stared directly into the camera, her eyes flicking back and forth as she read through her report; _“In a concerning turn of events, there has been a dramatic increase in hospital admittance across the country over the last few days for what appears to be an extremely aggressive, highly resistant new virus, originally thought to be a new strain of influenza. It has now been revealed that patients are displaying increasingly unexplained symptoms with no pathological origin found, and while there have been a number of cases involving children, the majority of sufferers range from anywhere between twenty one and eighty years old, with even some as young as eighteen being reported._

_The World Health Organisation has released no comment on the subject as of yet, but we can confirm an investigation is being carried out as reports fly in that many European countries are developing the same illness with no answer in sight. Meanwhile, health officials have advised people on how to prevent the spread of infection and encourage people to keep their vaccinations and their children’s updated to protect against this, sparking the most recent controversy in the debate over vaccinations –”_

‘You’re targeting adults,’ Jack said, turning away from the TV as realisation dawned on him. ‘ _Why_?’

‘You wanted the little kiddies safe and sound, you got them. But there’s always more than one way to skin a cat,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, flashing a smile of jagged, sharp teeth. ‘And I’d really prefer if you were all out of my way so I can attend to my business here _without_ these little distractions. The easiest way to do that, is to let the stories fade and take you with them.’

‘But Shtriga only feed on children’s life forces,’ Jack argued. ‘Pitch even said so. How can you-’

‘The world is full of hungry spirits, little Guardian, and they don’t need much convincing beyond a free meal.’

‘Then, I’ll trade for the adult’s protection as well-’

‘Oh no, no, no, little pawn,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, wagging a finger in front of Jack’s face. ‘You bargained your way into this, you can’t bargain your way out, and quite frankly, you don’t have enough to offer even if you could. What you should be more concerned about is what you _do_ have to bargain with.’

There was a beat of silence, and Jack shifted in his chair, looking between the news report and Pitch, who shrugged helplessly. Adults weren’t their domain, no matter what Jack did trying to convince Rumpelstiltskin otherwise. He had doomed the adults the moment he interfered with the first deal, and by extension, he had left the kids inevitably vulnerable when their parents were all hospitalised, or worse.  He glanced off to the side, avoiding Rumpelstiltskin’s eye. They all knew he had been backed into a corner, and the only way out was to carry through with the deal.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. ‘So what do you want in exchange for the extension? _Two_ memories from me?’

‘Yours are quite useless to me in every way other than your suffering and to uphold the original deal,’ Rumpelstiltskin said, bored. ‘But, I suppose it is only fair to take something specifically from you since you are the negotiating party. Not that you have anything of value.’

‘You love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?’ Jack retorted.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. ‘Sore spot? No matter. I could take your life –’

Jack jerked back, leaping into the air above the barstool as Pitch bolted upright behind the counter, nightmare sand coalescing into a scythe in his hands. Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, holding up his hands in a sign of truce.

‘I could take that at any time, truth be told, and you’re self sacrificing enough to agree to it if it gave them a chance,’ Rumpelstiltskin said.

Jack paused. He hadn’t said it as a question, but the answer leapt forward in Jack’s mind before he even registered it. 

‘Yes.’

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, already knowing it to be true. ‘Good thing you’re not going to, at least not today.’ He shrugged. ‘So, what are you willing to trade? Your centre? Your powers?’

'And make it easier for you? I don't think so,' Jack replied, shaking his head. He dropped onto the bar stool, perching on the edge so he was eye level with Rumpelstiltskin.

'You value them over the world? How selfish.'

Jack said nothing, raising an eyebrow. Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, stroked his chin in thought, eyeing Jack up and down. ‘It's a pity I can't take them. Fun is useless, but cold and dark have always worked so well together. I suppose that just leaves… belief.’

Silence followed.

‘You’ll have me invisible again?’ Jack asked.

'Mmm-hmm.'

He thought of Jamie and Sophie, celebrating their success in finding Mother Goose that morning. He thought of the other Burgess kids, who had promised to help him in any way they could since the day they started believing in him. The last five years passed by his eyes, the hard work he had done and the friends he had gained. He remembered the time when all his hard work had been for naught, when nothing he did could ever get him seen. He remembered the heavy weight of desperation he carried around with him, like a bag too big for his shoulders to hold, always hoping that if he carried it just _one_ more day, it would change, just _one_ more day and he wouldn’t have to be alone. He imagined the bag lying at his feet, heavier than before with the knowledge of what he had gained only to lose, waiting to be picked up and carried around once again.

‘I guess I’ll deal with that,’ he said quietly, pretending his voice didn’t crack as the words slipped past his lips. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward in his chair, and Pitch shifted when he got too close to Jack. Rumpelstiltskin ignored him, his eyes boring into Jack’s.

‘Even if it means you never get it back, even if you win?’

Jack said nothing, held in place by Rumpelstiltskin’s stare. He swallowed around the lump in his throat as his eyes blurred into a kaleidoscope of watery colours and shapes. He blinked, squeezing his eyes closed and ducking his head. He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze back to Rumpelstiltskin’s.

‘I’ll deal with it,’ he repeated, forcing the words out.

‘I look forward to seeing you try,’ Rumpelstiltskin said. ‘This is going to be fun.’

Jack flinched at the sound of his own words thrown back at him. Rumpelstiltskin laughed as he extended his hand to hang in the air between them. Jack stared at it, telling himself he was doing it for the greater good, telling himself it was to help everyone. He would save everyone.

‘Last chance, little pawn, to back down,’ Rumpelstiltskin warned with a smile. Jack shook his head, not daring to speak in case it ruined him, and he grasped Rumpelstiltskin’s hand.

There was a tug, a sharp pull inside him that spread through his body, rippling out from the centre of his chest. His vision blacked and returned, nausea sweeping over him. He swayed in his seat, his head spinning before he snatched his hand back and clutched it tight to his chest. A hollow void settled in his chest, the children lost to him, yet he still felt the comforting icy chill of his power, sitting untouched deep inside him. Mostly untouched. He was a Guardian, and Guardian’s needed belief for power; Pitch had proven that five years ago, but where Tooth had lost the ability to fly and Bunny had shrunk to bite size, Jack barely registered the difference. He could tell it had lessened, but it lacked severity.

‘Joke’s on you,’ he said, a spark of vengeful resentment flaring inside him as he looked up at Rumpelstiltskin, who watched him with calculating scrutiny. ‘I didn’t lose my power.’

‘ _That_ wasn’t my intention,’ Rumpelstiltskin replied, stepping down from his seat and straightening his jacket. ‘And if you really want to talk about power, I’d be more than happy to oblige.’

He raised his hand, and clenched it into a fist.

 *

Satu’s ears popped, and she keeled to one side as if struck by a sudden wave of vertigo. Then the noise assaulted her ears, as if a jet plane was taking off outside the hotel. The windows shook with the force of it, slamming open and drawing a whirlwind into the restaurant. Chairs and tables overturned, china smashing to the floor and against the walls as it was swept up into the air.

‘Get under cover!’ Satu yelled, her voice distant and muffled to her own ears before she slammed against the bar, dragged by the pulling vortex, the air knocked from her lungs. She pushed against the edge of the counter, trying to pull back only to snap forward, the edge of the bar digging into her ribs with crushing force before strong arms wrapped around her waist and drove her to the floor. Her head bounced against the rubber mats lining the tiles, and she blinked to right her vision, a thick mane of curly black hair dominating it. Beside them, Oliver crouched low, half curled over Darcy’s back, adding extra weight to keep them down as glass exploded above them, raining onto the floor.

The seconds stretched as hours until the roar stopped, cut off midway like someone had pressed a mute button on it. Silence fell, and time stood still in the moment between one blink of an eye and the next, the world frozen in a state of shock. Satu jumped when she heard the first heavy thump of a bag against the carpet, the clatter of metal as chairs and tables fell in an avalanche around the restaurant until the last heavy crash rang through the restaurant.

Oliver was the first to move, breaking the stillness between them and climbed to his feet, brushing off the debris. Darcy followed him, accepting his helping hand. Satu hauled herself up, one arm around her waist, trying to catch her breath.

‘What the hell was that?’ Darcy asked, holding onto the bar and locking her arms as she curled over herself, stretching her arms and back.

‘I think I'm cursed,’ Satu wheezed, leaning back against the counter beside Darcy. Darcy snorted, looking up at Satu through her waterfall of hair.

‘I live with you, don’t go joking like that,’ she said. She straightened, rolling her shoulders as she surveyed the damage. ‘Man, oh man, big bosses are gonna  _freak_ when they see this.’

‘It might not be too bad,’ Satu offered optimistically, before she smiled, joking. ‘They might even rearrange the wedding later this month for somewhere else.’

Darcy laughed behind a closed mouth, shaking her head. ‘Somehow, I doubt they’ll let one little hurricane lose ‘em money.’

‘There’s no way that was a hurricane.’

Darcy shrugged, hands on her hips. ‘Whatever it was, it should’ve had the same rules apply like every other disaster.’

She stared pointedly at Satu, who furrowed her brow in confusion. Darcy sighed. ‘“Duck and cover”, not “make sure everyone duck and covers before you and end up stuck”. Make sense?’

Satu pulled a face, chastised. ‘Sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘Obviously. Never mind, saved your life, you owe me,’ she half-sang. Satu rolled her eyes.

‘That’s on top of the work hours, and giving me a place to live,’ she listed, ticking them off on her fingers. Darcy nodded.

‘Better get me a damn good Christmas present this year,’ she said. She looked back out around the restaurant and sighed. ‘Until then, we got work to do. Come on.’

She hopped over the bar, the quickest route out onto the floor, and Satu followed her, pulling herself onto it and swinging her legs over it when she stopped, something clicking into place as she looked around the restaurant.

‘He’s gone,’ she said.

‘What?’ Darcy looked over her shoulder at Satu, confused. Satu pointed to where she had seen the blind man sitting, the one that had sent her into a panic. She looked around the room again, scanning the crowd for him. ‘The man sitting at the bar. He’s gone.’

Darcy followed her gaze around the room, searching for him as well. ‘I’m not complaining,’ she said finally, wrinkling her nose. ‘He gave off some creepy vibes.’

'I know.’ Satu shuddered, trying to forget the onset of fear that had gripped her as soon as she saw the man. She didn’t even know where it had come from or why it happened; he had just been sitting at the bar, he hadn’t been doing anything that should’ve cause alarm.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Darcy said, snapping Satu’s attention back to her. Satu nodded after a pause, smiling at her, even though she didn’t feel as steady as she wanted. Her ribs ached from where they’d slammed against the bar, and the panic had left her exhausted and drained.

‘I’ll be okay,’ she said. Darcy nodded, pursing her lips before she shrugged.

‘Well, at least we can say we were right,’ Darcy said, a cheeky smile pulling her lips into a crooked slant. Satu cocked her head to the side, swinging her legs over the other side of the bar and letting them hang.

‘About what?’ she asked.

‘A strong breeze really can carry you away,’ Darcy joked. Satu rolled her eyes, reaching out with her foot and nudged Darcy in the side with her toes.

‘Come on, if the hotel wants to avoid a law suit, best deal with these guys,’ Darcy said, knocking Satu’s leg away and beckoning her to follow. Satu nodded, hopping off the bar. Something crunched underfoot and she looked down, lifting her foot to reveal broken glass and a large frozen block of ice that had cracked into fragments. She huffed a heavy breath and kicked it back into the edge of the bar to be dealt with later, hurrying after Darcy.

 *

Pitch stood, shaking the broken glass from his shoulders and brushing it off the front of his robe. He could feel the small pricks of tiny shards on his back poking through his robe, but he ignored them, looking around for Jack.

‘Frost?’ he called out. He received no answer, and he frowned, leaning over the bar to check among the toppled stools scattered along the floor beside it. ‘Frost, you better not be dead or I’ll –’

He saw a shock of white hair beneath the lip of the wood, Jack huddled against the side of the bar counter. Pitch exhaled a heavy breath of relief, slipping into the shadows around him and out the other side. He crouched down beside Jack as he stared blankly ahead, his knees drawn up to his chest with one arm wrapped around them. Jack pressed the heel of his free hand against his forehead, his fingers shoved through his hair, wrenching at clumps of it. He glanced out the corner of his eye when Pitch materialised beside him and sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘Don’t,’ he whispered, swallowing down tears. ‘Just don’t.’

Pitch sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The wave of sudden drunkenness that hit him from the spike in Jack’s fears was wearing off, although the energy buzz it left behind remained. The Fearlings sharing his mind pushed at the edges of it, clawing for the meal that had sated them so thoroughly, and his head bloomed in pain as he forced them back, forced his control over them to keep them from springing at Jack. It took less struggle than it had taken recently; he already felt far stronger and healthier than he had in years, his body knitting itself together after the beating it had received, bruises and swelling fading from his muscles.

He told none of this to Jack, a strange compulsion at the back of his mind under the Fearlings’ cravings to heed the boy’s feelings prohibiting him from speaking.

‘Frost, we need to go,’ he said. Jack said nothing, tears spilling down his cheeks.

‘Frost, the Guardians need to be told about this,’ he tried again. When there was no response, he lost patience. ‘Frost!’

Jack visibly jumped, twisting where he sat and stared up at him, wide eyed and vulnerable. Pitch sighed through his nose, pushing his tongue between his teeth and lips.

‘Fro- Jack,’ he said, reaching a great length to attempt gentleness. ‘The Guardians need to be told about Mother Goose and the new deal. They need to be told the adults are being attacked instead of the children so they can start damage control. We _have_ to go.’

Jack swallowed, sniffing as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looking too young and too old for his age at the same time, and he nodded. Bracing himself on the front of the bar, he pushed himself up with Pitch’s help, Pitch grabbing his elbow to keep him steady when he stood.

‘Come along, Frost,’ Pitch encouraged. Jack shook his head, pulling away from him.

‘No. No, I need you to… I need you to go to the kids, tell them what’s happened. They need to know their parents are in danger,’ he said. ‘Go to the hospitals as well and check the damage that’s been done while we weren’t looking. Kids are still going to be in danger, if no one’s around to look after them.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll get the Guardian’s here,’ he answered. ‘I’ll call everyone here: we need to figure out who can help us convince Mother Goose to believe and who can help protect the adults. Maybe Mother Nature can do something in this, at least.’

‘Will you be able to do this?’ Pitch asked with a suspicious frown. Jack snorted, his shoulders relaxing as a cocky grin lit up his face, and Pitch’s suspicions were confirmed, the shadows clinging to Jack much darker and heavier. He couldn’t hide his fears from Pitch with a fake smile and practised nonchalance. ‘Frost…’

‘I didn’t lose any power,’ Jack said, shaking his head. He pulled a face, shrugging as he corrected himself. ‘At least, I didn’t lose any power I had before becoming a Guardian. I can conjure up one little, major freak snow storm, send out enough ice lightning as a beacon to catch their attention. Bunny was always quick to catch me out no matter what the season.’

‘Are you _stable_ enough to do this, Jack?’

‘No,’ Jack answered truthfully, twirling his staff through his fingers as he avoided Pitch’s stare. ‘But maybe it will help.’

Pitch frowned, unable to think of a counterargument, an incessant nagging at the back of his mind saying he should; the same one that stopped him from saying anything moments ago. Jack’s attention was no longer on him even if he did have an argument, and he followed Jack’s gaze to where Satu stood, helping another waitress get a middle aged woman back up onto her seat.

‘Will she be alright?’ he asked. Pitch said nothing, pursing his lips in thought. He raised one hand, and a cyclone of black sand swirled in his palm. From it, a fully grown Nightmare leapt into the restaurant, trotting over the shards of broken glass and splintered wood without discomfort. It shook its head and whinnied, nuzzling the hem of Pitch’s robes. He patted its neck, and it huffed, unhappy about being left alone and in the open for bigger, stronger Fearlings to find it.

‘Now, at least I’ll know if anything raises suspicion around her,’ he replied, continuing to stroke its neck. ‘He said he would not harm her, but I don’t trust his loopholes. For obvious reasons.’

He pretended not to notice Jack flinch as he turned away, leaving his Nightmare behind, and Jack followed him silently after a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t have the time, the energy, or the inclination to coddle Jack about the choices he made or the consequences of his actions. They had been forced to make a deal twice now to benefit Rumpelstiltskin and leave them running around on what had originally been a wild goose chase, but where Jack had been scrambling to piece together a bargain for Rumpelstiltskin, Pitch had been _listening_. Rumpelstiltskin had revealed something unintentionally because of Jack, and Pitch needed to confirm it if they wanted to have a chance besting Rumpelstiltskin by the end.


	17. The Gathering Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack knows how to cook up a snow storm, and everyone tries to navigate through it

‘Get in, get in, get in!’ Darcy demanded, stumbling into her apartment after Satu, shutting the front door behind her. The lock clicked as she turned the key, and she twisted the latch bolt above it and pulled, checking its sturdiness, before letting it go and it slid back into the strike plate. She shoved the multi-coloured draft stopper against the door and shook her jacket off her shoulders. Satu had already hung up her coat, unwinding her scarf and hanging it over the radiator in the hall, peeling her dripping sweater from her back.

‘Go get a shower,’ Darcy said, shaking her mane of hair, her dark curls weighing heavy down her back, sticking to her face. ‘The towels’ in that cupboard.’

‘What about you?’ Satu asked, opening the cupboard next to the front door; linen and towels and extra blankets piled on the shelves alongside other odds and ends, and she grabbed two large towels, handing one to Darcy and wrapped the other around her shoulders, clenching it tight in front of her.

‘I’ll get one after you, I’ll need to fix my hair first. Just don't use all my hot water.’

Satu nodded and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a click and folded the towel over the rack beside the sink. She pulled off the t-shirt she’d been given as her uniform, the cotton sticking to her skin, dropping it in the sink to stop it dripping over the floor. Even under her jumper and long leather coat, it hadn’t escaped the blast of the sudden snow storm that had descended on Burgess. She paused, staring at her reflection in the mirror, and her fingers rose to press against the purple-black bruise stretching across her abdomen, just below her diaphragm and around her ribs, mottling her left side.

She grimaced, studying it in the mirror before she turned and started the shower, letting the water heat as she stripped, her jewellery laid out carefully on the sideboard. She stepped under the jet of near scalding water with a relieved sigh, the chill seeping from her muscles. The day had started out difficult and had gone down hill from there, from struggling to get up to the sudden blizzard. She flushed with embarrassment recalling her… something like a panic attack, when she’d seen the man sitting by the bar. The _blind_ man.

She scrubbed her fingers through her hair, lathering it with shampoo and letting the water rinse it off, trying to push the memory away. She closed her eyes, rubbing them with her thumb and forefinger. Then there had been the violent, dragging pull that sucked in the entire restaurant. The force of it nearly drew her into what felt like oblivion, if Darcy and Oliver hadn’t tackled her to the floor, and oblivion it might just have been, when they discovered half the restaurant had disappeared in the aftermath: tables, chairs, anything that hadn’t been nailed down had been nowhere in sight throughout the entire afternoon when they began rearranging everything, and Oliver had been left to hunt it all down after their shift had ended.

She finished the shower, turning the water off and squeezing the excess from her hair. She rolled it up into a messy bun as she slipped out of the shower stall, grabbing her bobble from the sideboard and tying it up at the back of her head. She wrapped the towel around her and grabbed her jewellery, fastening her silver tree pendant around her neck and tossed the sopping wet clothes into the hamper at the door. Padding out into the hallway, she heard Darcy in her own room, and headed through into the lounge to hunt down her pyjamas from the sofa bed.

Once she was dry and dressed, she pulled her hair from the bobble and wrapped the towel around it, twisting it round and curling it over her head, tucking the towel under itself at the back to secure it. She arranged her jewellery on the table beside the sofa and padded through to the kitchen, the flat warming up from the central heating. It allowed her to comfortably wander around in baggy pyjamas and a grey camisole that exposed the tattoo stretched across her upper back, the crest of the wings following the line of her shoulders, the tips of the inked feathers brushing her elbows. When she moved her arms, it looked like the wings moved with them.

She saw Darcy wrapped up in her fleece pyjamas and dressing gown as she padded into the kitchen, her hair in a turban like Satu’s, hovering over the fridge as she stared at its contents. She reached in and pulled out milk and a bar of chocolate, a pot of cream, and a bottle of vanilla extract for hot chocolate. She pushed the door shut and jumped at the sight of Satu, unheard in her approach.

‘I hate it when you do that,’ Darcy breathed, her palm pressed against her chest as she headed back to the stove and set the ingredients down, reached into the cupboards for more, a bag of sugar and cocoa powder already waiting on the counter.

‘Sorry,’ Satu apologised. She followed Darcy over to the cooker and hopped up onto the counter, leaning forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her chin on her knuckles. 'Any word back from Oliver?’

‘Nah, nothing yet,’ Darcy replied, dropping her fingers from her eyebrow bar as she began to measure out her hot chocolate recipe. 'So, I think this situation calls for hot chocolate.’

Satu smiled, and watched as Darcy whisked up two mugs of hot chocolate with cream stirred into the mixture to thicken it, adding nutmeg and cinnamon and a pinch of chilli powder to give a kick to the rich sweetness of the chocolate. When it was ready, Satu took their mugs through to the lounge, setting them on the side tables next to the sofa and curled up at one end of the cushions while Darcy fetched the supplies for her hair. Returning with a spray bottle and several brushes and combs, a tub of hair balm tucked under one arm and a packet of cleansing wipes under the other, she dropped everything beside Satu and flopped down onto the cushions. Her phone buzzed in her dressing gown pocket as she untied the turban around her hair.

Pulling it out, she paused in the doorway, scrolling through the text message. Her brow furrowed into a deep look of concern.

'Darce? What's up?' Satu asked, sitting forward and folding her legs up under her. 'Is that Oliver?'

'Yeah,' Darcy replied slowly, as if half-hearing her. She rolled her eyebrow bar between her fingertips, tapping a message back at lightning speed.

'What's he saying?'

'Everything is still a no-show,' Darcy replied after a pause, coming forward and sitting on the edge of the sofa, her phone buzzing again with a text message. 'There's nothing. At all.'

'Like it just disappeared?'  _Into oblivion._

'Looks like it. Shit,' Darcy cursed, setting her phone on her knee and beginning to separate it into sections. 

‘So, what now?’ Satu asked. She teased a small chunk of curls away from the rest with the tail of a comb while she listened to the conversation, and picked the tangles apart between her fingers, starting from ends. Pulling the comb through the section of curls to finish untangling the strands, she plucked the loose hairs from the teeth and setting them aside to be binned. 

‘Not much we can do,’ Darcy replied, squirting her hair with the spray and running her fingers over the section, spreading it down the hair before she started untangling it.

‘Are you working tomorrow?’ Satu asked as she started the next section, taking her time with the long curls. When Darcy’s hair was dry, the tips reached just below the angle of her shoulder blade in corkscrew curls; wet, they almost reached the small of her back.

‘Yeah, but down at the garage,’ Darcy replied. ‘I figure I’ll be calling in overtime with this weather. You got plans for tomorrow?’

Satu nodded at her laptop sitting inside her open rucksack by the sofa, her bags hardly unpacked. ‘I’ll start looking for jobs again. Start somewhere small to save up money, then get back to New York.’

‘You can stay here if you want,’ Darcy offered, squirting her hair with the spray again and passing it to Satu, the mixture of olive oil and water scented with coconut making her hair smooth and slippery, the strands gliding against each other as they were separated. ‘It’s not the fanciest, but you got some _amazing_ company.’

‘Really?’

‘Hey, I’m a _delight_.’

Satu snorted with laughter, and Darcy pouted, poked her in the ribs with a comb. Satu recoiled, grabbing her wrist to stop her tickling her before she continued working on Darcy’s stubborn curls.

‘I _meant_ ; you really don’t mind me staying here?’ Satu asked. ‘I take up a lot of room.’

‘As long as you don’t mind,’ Darcy said. ‘We shared a house with a bunch of other kids for twelve odd years, it’s not gonna be brand new to us. You can work on your novel, _and_ I get to be first in line to hear all your latest ideas.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah, tell me a story,’ Darcy said, using a wide toothed comb to brush out the remaining tangles in the thick section of hair. ‘I know you got plenty to spare.’

That was true. After three and a half years working on her main novel, she hadn’t even gotten half way finished because new ones always sparked in her mind and distracted her whenever she tried to sit down and focus, dozens of ideas piling up that needed written down or drawn out to clear them from her mind again to focus on her novel. She’d get another few pages or a chapter written up before her ideas piled up again, and the cycle would repeat.

Darcy poked her in the ribs again, making her jump, staring at Satu expectantly. ‘Come on, this’ll take ages, I need some entertainment. Where are all your notebooks? You have like, three months of catching up to do. Let’s go.’

‘I actually had to shred most of them before I came back,’ Satu explained, taking a sip of hot chocolate before she caught the look on Darcy’s face. ‘It’s okay! They’re all on a memory stick! I typed up all the notebooks that were full, and shredded them to save space for coming back. I’ve only got one or two left, and all my sketchbooks.’

‘I was ready to strangle you for that. What’ve I told you about throwing stuff away?’ Darcy said, poking her in the ribs again. Satu leaned away, biting her lip to stop her giggles, the three snarling, Celtic knot wolf heads peeking over the waistband of her pyjamas as her camisole shifted up her stomach. Darcy dropped her hand away and looked at Satu’s bags critically. ‘You really got rid of everything, huh?’

‘Everything I couldn’t pack,’ Satu replied as she straightened, fixed the camisole back into place. She followed her gaze even as she started working on the next coil of hair. Her meagre cache of clothes, books, and only the essential electronics weren’t even half of what she’d obtained over the years. ‘Everything I could sell.’

‘Your bow, all your equipment?’ Darcy asked, even though it was obviously absent from Satu’s things. Satu nodded, thinking about the black compound bow that had been close at hand for as long as she could remember, the elaborate cam system taking most of the strain off her muscles with the draw weights.

‘ _That_ was my saving grace,’ she replied, pulling apart a particularly difficult clump of hair. ‘I managed to get enough for it after buying my bus tickets to keep me going for a little while. I thought I’d have to use it on a youth hostel or a hotel, but it’ll help here instead. I can spread it over a few more months, now, on top of the restaurant work and anything new I can find.’

‘It’s not like it fulfilled its potential with my noodly arms,’ Satu joked, flexing her arms, trying to keep positive so Darcy would stop looking at Satu like she could see right through her. In truth, Satu wouldn’t be surprised if she could, when Satu could tell what Darcy was thinking just by the hitch of her eyebrows or the way her smile curled higher to one side. She dropped them to her lap when Darcy said nothing, running her thumbs over the base of her fingers, stopped when she remembered her rings were on the table beside her. ‘I still have my fairy tales. I can always throw them as a weapon, if you want.’

'Yeah, I know how good they are, first hand,' Darcy laughed. Satu shook her head with a smile, looking at her things. ‘I’ll buy a new one, eventually. I’ll take classes again to get better and I’ll enter competitions again to replace my medals. We can compare them to your kendo and kickboxing ones. I’ll take up dancing again, maybe, and you’ll still be better than me.’

‘Damn right, I will, Swan Lake,’ Darcy said, grinning. ‘And we both live happily ever after.’

‘A Fairy Tale ending,’ Satu agreed.

‘You believe it?’ Darcy asked.

‘No,’ Satu said, shaking her head. ‘But… with you, I can almost believe it.’

‘Good enough,’ Darcy said, pulling a face. ‘Now, you know what _another_ great ending to hear would be? You telling me some new stories!’

‘You’re impossible,’ Satu laughed. She reached over to her rucksack and pulled out a sketchbook, handing it over to Darcy’s grabbing fingers. She picked up another section of hair and started easing the strands apart, content to let Darcy skim through her sketchbook at her leisure while Satu untangled her hair. Darcy rubbed her fingers on a cleansing wipe to get rid of the oily-water tincture and opened the book to the latest page, pointing at the sketch on the paper.

‘So, what’s the deal with them? Are they in your novel?’ she asked, picking up her own section of hair and working on it as she looked at the thumbnails down the edge of the page and in the corners around the main sketch. Satu looked over her shoulder to see what she had drawn on that particular page. 

‘No, they’re from a side project. They’re Djinn. They cohabit with humans.’

‘Granting wishes?’

‘ _Trading_ them,’ Satu said, relaxing as she picked at Darcy’s hair. She enjoyed telling Darcy stories as much as Darcy enjoyed hearing them, comfortable with Darcy to share everything about the worlds hidden in her head without fear. ‘They trade wishes for years of your life. The bigger the wish, the more years they take. The average life span of humans in that world is maybe forty-ish.’

‘What if you wish to live forever?’

‘Then they eat your heart, and you become a Djinn, forced to live the rest of your life taking years from humans to stop yourself fading.’

'Ooh, plot twist. Nice. Tell me more.'

Satu laughed, starting on a new section of hair as she talked about the world of Djinn and humans, trades and wishes and adventures, making Darcy laugh occasionally with anecdotes and quips about the characters. Darcy listened intently, interrupting with questions and her own ideas when she had them as they slowly detangled the rest of her hair, unaware of the Nightmare curled up at the end of the sofa bed, watching them with bright, golden eyes.

* * *

Pitch wandered the tiled hallways, the stringent chemicals of disinfectant permeating his nose as he scanned the ICU ward. He had visited the paediatric unit, identifying the ones who the Shtriga had taken before the deal had come into effect before he moved on to the abundance of adults taking up bed space in Burgess General. Staring at their pale, waxen faces, he felt no pity for them, their sunken eyes black with exhaustion and illness. Their fears, even in their varying degrees of consciousness, still read the same, the bland wash of colour wrapping them up in a blanket of heavy shadow, their fears a stuck record on repeat, the same drone of staccato in his ears in every bed he passed.

_Don’t let me die. I don’t want to die. Don’t let me die. I don’t want to –_

A shrill, steady beep pierced the white noise, and he turned to the closest bed, reading the monitors as they flat lined, the multi-coloured numbers dropping on the screens. He watched a nurse fly past him, slamming her palm onto the large red button by the patient’s bed, sounding an alarm. She pulled the bed flat as others swarmed to help her, yelling back and forth as a crash cart sped past him and the curtains were yanked shut around them, hiding them from view. He turned and looked to the doorway leading into the ward, and saw Death standing there, clad in a black and gold military uniform, waiting.

Pitch sighed, inclining his head in greeting as he walked past Death, receiving no acknowledgement in return. He didn’t expect one; Death only acknowledged those whom they were ready to meet, wearing a different face, a different body, for every soul who saw them.

Pitch stayed some time, longer than he wanted, but the day had left him hollowed out and exhausted, despite the energy boost Jack had provided him. The fear was palpable throughout the hospital, the acidic taste growing stronger on his tongue, like vinegar, as the humans realised the inevitability of their death. He swallowed the sharp tang of it, the few Fearlings that remained enjoying it, pushing at the edges of his mind as they took their fill, leaving him hollow and unsated.

He paused, rubbing his eyes to soothe a headache that never went away and looked around, the fluorescent lights above his head casting a yellow hue around the hall. The floor squeaked underfoot as porters carted patients along corridors, the last dregs of visitors leaving for the night, looking worn down and defeated. Nurses starting their twelfth hour on shift knocked back tasteless dregs of watered down coffee, scratching the tangles of bedraggled hair back from their faces into some semblance of order as they sifted through charts and folders. The air weighed heavy in the long hallways of Burgess General, muted and reserved, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for the storm to roll in and sweep everything and everyone away.

Outside, the world was white: thick, heavy flakes the size of golf balls pummelled the ground, picked up again by the roaring wind that snatched them into the air again and dragged them away. Snow blanketed the ground, boxing cars in where they sat idle and piled high against walls, creeping higher up the stone. A thunderous roar rolled through the sky; Pitch raised his eyebrows at Jack’s power over the wind to cause such a force as he approached the window and leaned against the railing running along the line of them down the hallway.

Looking at the falling snow, he pursed his lips in thought, looked at the shadows hiding between buildings and under trees, stretching out where the streetlights couldn’t reach. He tapped his fingers against the cool metal. His gaze darted between the snow and the shadows, indecisive, before he pushed himself away from the railing and summoned Onyx, who gave him a baleful look when she sprang forth from the black sand, disturbed from her gorging on the fear available to her. She shook her head, swinging it round to look outside. Blinking, she swung her head back and stared at Pitch.

‘Oh, don’t be such a weakling,’ Pitch said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘You’re a Nightmare, act like it. Is there a Fearling in there or is all just sweet dreams?’

She snorted, braying, and lowered her head. Pitch reached out and patted her neck, pulling himself up onto her back. ‘Now then,’ he said. ‘Get me back to the last light’s house.’

Onyx shook her head and took off down the hallway, Nightmare and rider unseen as they turned towards the exit and hurtled out into the storm, the air freezing Pitch’s skin as soon as they stepped into it.  He crouched low to Onyx's neck, squinting against the blizzard as they rose into the air, streamlining for the cloud cover before Onyx leapt through it to the calmer atmosphere above, and Pitch relaxed, shaking the snow out of his hair and brushing it from his clothing. Looking around, he focused on the last light, sifting through the myriad of fears across town before he found his house, and kicked Onyx into a run again, diving back into the storm.

The wreath with the rowan clippings hidden amongst the holly and evergreen was still tightly secured to the gate when he arrived, prohibiting his entrance. He scowled at it, squinting up at the house, searching the windows for the last light. He saw him through the higher windows, finding him in the dark in front of his computer, the soft blue glow of the screen casting shadows around the room. Pitch huffed a breath, raising one hand and focusing on the shadows within the room.

The rowan made it difficult, but not impossible, and the shadows began to move, shifting across the walls of his room, forming ominous shapes with long stretching appendages and sharp edges. It didn’t take much to draw Jamie’s attention, already hyper alert in the dark, and he spun on his chair, almost toppling off of it as the shadows rose up his walls. He stumbled to the window, cupping his hands around his eyes and pressing close against the glass, searching out Pitch before he disappeared from view, and Pitch released his hold on the shadows, waiting for him.

Several minutes later with a much shorter fuse, he saw Jamie sneak out the front door, wrapped in what looked like his entire winter wardrobe, running down the path towards Pitch. He slowed as he approached the gate, hesitant. Pitch smiled, watching Jamie’s fear in the darkness cloaking him: in the midst of the storm, Pitch was an ominous presence, a dark figure upon a dark steed, four glowing gold eyes piercing through the blizzard.

‘“Let me in, let me in,” said the wolf to the lambs,’ he said, and Jamie scowled over the edge of his scarf, hurrying to the gate and unhooking the wreath. He kept it close to his chest as Pitch swung off Onyx and drew her back into his mind, feeling her settle in the darker, vacant recesses and he pushed open the gate, entering the garden.

‘What’s the point of this thing, if you can mess with the shadows anyway?’ Jamie asked over the howling wind, knotting the wreath back onto the gate.

‘They’re just shadows,’ Pitch replied with a shrug, striding up the path towards the house. ‘They’re ultimately harmless, the most I could do with it is corrupt dream sand and forge weapons. If it were Fearlings or Nightmare Men, you’d have far more reason to worry. As it stands—’

He paused, letting Jamie enter the house before he followed, the door closing with a quiet click behind him in the darkness of the hall. Jamie pulled off his winter wear, glancing up the stairs for any sign of his mother, reading to Sophie before her bedtime for school in the morning. Jamie threw his things into the hall cupboard, and crept back up the stairs, Pitch following close behind until inside Jamie's room. Jamie closed his bedroom door, sagging against it with relief.

‘The rowan is actually very effective at keeping out unwanted guests,’ Pitch said, sitting down on the desk chair and crossing his legs, clasping his hands in his lap as he watched the last light. The believer that Pitch had seen that morning was not the same one that stood in front of him, shuffling his feet where he stood and glancing at his baseball bat propped in the corner. Fear shrouded him, more potent than Pitch had seen it in five years.

‘So, what’s going on?’ Jamie asked, watching Pitch as he climbed onto his bed and rested his back against the headboard, curling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. ‘What’s with everyone in town?’

‘In truth, I don’t know,’ Pitch replied. ‘I cannot sense any supernatural entity attached to the adults, not the same way I can with children. There does appear to be something attacking them, but I cannot say what: my suggestion would be to go to whoever made those wreaths and get more charms for protection. Even generic ones would be better than none.’

Jamie nodded, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. ‘Okay, so, remind me again what’s causing all this creepy stuff around Burgess?’

Pitch raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. ‘Tell me, how much do you remember?’

Jamie shrugged, looking at his bed covers. He opened his mouth to speak when there was a sharp rap on his bedroom door, and his mother poked her head inside the room.

‘Jamie, who’re you talking to?’

‘No one, mom, just, checking I have everything for school tomorrow,’ Jamie lied. His mother frowned, looking around the door at the computer screen, blind to Pitch sitting in front of it, and turned back to Jamie.

‘Jamie, you’re still grounded, what’re you doing on your computer?’

‘Homework.’

‘On a Sunday night?’

‘It’s not due till after the holidays,’ Jamie said, the fear of getting caught trailing a dull clay red across his aura. ‘I’m getting a head start.’

His mother frowned, staring at the computer screen. Jamie huffed, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Do you want to _check_?’

‘Watch your tone, Jamie, it’s too late in the evening for this,’ she snapped, rubbing her forehead. ‘Just, finish up for the night and get ready for bed. You’ve got school in the morning.’

‘I _know._ ’

His mother sighed, counting under her breath as she stared at the ceiling. Pitch watched her, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at the fears hounding her, a bitter taste of sour grapes on his tongue. The fear translated into anger, pushing when Jamie had already started distancing himself from her. He wrinkled his nose, uncaring about a parent’s fears: they always sat heavy in his stomach, leaving him nauseated.

‘You know what, Jamie,’ she began, her face pinched into a tight frown. Jamie tensed on his bed, ready for a lecture, his own expression hardening into stubborn anger.

‘ _Leave_.’

They both froze, their faces going slack. Jamie’s gaze shifted towards Pitch as he rose from his seat and approached his mother.

‘What are you doing?’ Jamie whispered out the corner of his mouth, his wide eyes darting between Pitch and his mother. Pitch ignored him, focusing on the dull orange-browns and beige greys crackling through the darkness around Jamie’s mother. He pulled at them like coloured string, weaving them together in a tapestry of fear and dismay. He didn’t need belief to induce fear, his presence alone sufficing to create some level of discomfort in anyone who came close to him - an uneasy feeling of being watched when alone, a creeping shiver up the spine. Adults weren’t as susceptible as children, but they weren’t immune, especially when he started talking. It would be far easier if he had the darkness to help, but he managed rather well without them, running his tongue over his teeth as he teased the fears the woman had to the surface, amplifying them to disproportionate levels as he circled her.

‘He’ll hate you,’ Pitch said, the shadows swelling around him. Pitch clasped his hands behind his back, his bright gold eyes glowing in the darkening room. The woman shivered. ‘He’ll never speak to you again. You’ll be a failure of a mother.’

He leaned down, his lips close to the shell of her ear, breathing in the sharp tang of her fear, his Fearlings drinking it down, even after feeding throughout the day. ‘You can’t do this without your husband.’

‘Mom!’

Pitch drew back, his head snapping round to stare at Jamie, who had moved half way off his bed towards them. Pitch smiled at the worry he held for his mother, and stepped back, returning to his seat by the computer. He had found the strongest of the woman’s fears, he didn’t need to do any more; her own thoughts and emotions did the rest of the work as she sagged, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

‘Mom?’ Jamie asked, biting his lip.

‘I’m not arguing about this tonight,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Just get enough sleep for tomorrow.’

‘Goodnight,’ Jamie said. She shut the door without replying, and Jamie whirled around, shooting a glare at Pitch.

‘That was so _rotten_ ,’ he spat. ‘Why did you do that?’

Pitch shrugged, bored. ‘It stopped her yelling at you and she left you alone. You should be thanking me.’

‘That was rotten,’ he repeated, shaking his head in disgust. ‘Just because she’s mad at me, that doesn’t mean you should say those things to her. Especially about my dad.’

‘Can we move along?’ Pitch sighed. ‘I need to know how much you remember from the last few days.’

Jamie shrugged angrily, flopping back on his bed and crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the door with a pinched frown. Pitch rolled his eyes, resting his cheek on his hand and propped his elbow on the back of the chair. 

‘Everyone’s gotten ill, all of a sudden,’ Jamie said. ‘There were those moths that turned into witches, the night you were in my closet and… that’s it over the last few days. Now you’re telling me you need a Mother Goose, and… Satu is your best chance, because she saved me from the ice, and there’s something going on with the adults, and… Rumpelstiltskin? He’s in charge of everything.’

‘You don’t remember helping search for Mother Goose? Being told about Rumpelstiltskin?’ Pitch pressed, cocking his head to the side. Jamie shrugged.

‘He was here this morning, threatening us. No one could see him for what he was, except us,’ he said. He shook his head. ‘What’s all this about, anyway?’

‘How much do you remember of five years ago?’

There was a pause, and Jamie shifted on his bed. Pitch’s gaze flicked to Jamie’s edges, the colours bleeding through the black like an oil slick. Jamie couldn’t remember laughing in the face of fear or having fun against the darkness. He remembered fear, and the Guardians ultimately prevailing, but a key component was missing from his recollection of that Easter.

‘Why?’ Jamie asked. Pitch didn’t answer, a thump on the roof drawing their attention to the ceiling, and Pitch stood, going to the window to open it. Jack hopped in, swinging his staff over his shoulder.

‘Finally,’ Pitch muttered, stepping aside. Jack glared at him through his eyelashes, keeping his head hung low, his hood pulled up as he walked over and leaned against the desk. Jamie jumped out of bed as North, Nightlight, Tooth and Sandy entered through the window. From his carpet, Bunnymund hopped out, shaking the snow from his fur. Last to enter was Mother Nature, rigid and stony faced, looking around the cramped room.

Jamie stared at the two newcomers, his gaze falling on Nightlight in awe at the glowing spectral boy. Nightlight returned his stare, blinking owlishly and cocking his head to one side, studying Jamie as he studied Nightlight. He offered Jamie a hesitant smile, and Jamie returned it, waved at him. In his corner, pressed against the desk and the wall, Jack watched Nightlight with a flinty glare from under his hood, his lips pressed into a tight line.

Nightlight looked over at them, his eyes flicking to Pitch before they returned to Jack, matching his glare.

‘This storm is dangerous,’ he said. ‘Do you not care of the consequences people will face because of your actions?’

‘I think they won’t mind a little snow much if we keep the world from being destroyed,’ Jack replied, his voice heavy and thick, from tears he had likely cried throughout the storm. His eyes were bloodshot, the blue taking on the colour of ice under the wet sheen of tears. ‘We needed to get the Guardians here.’

‘And we are,’ North replied before Nightlight could form a retort. ‘Very good idea, using big storm. We would be here faster, if Bunny had not been so adamant about using tunnels.’

‘Not everyone loves the sleigh, mate,’ Bunny drawled, folding his arms across his chest and leaned against the set of drawers on the opposite side of the room. North rolled his eyes, leaning into Jack with a small, playful smile on his face.

‘He has been stick in mud all day,’ he fake-whispered behind one hand, and Jack smiled back weakly.

‘In case ya forgot, we’re stuck nearing the end of the world. There’s not time for bloody tricks on a death trap,’ Bunny replied.

‘Sleigh is not a death trap!’

‘If there was a particular reason, Jack Frost, why you summoned a blizzard of this magnitude to simply get our attention,’ Mother Nature cut in, before North and Bunny could descend into any further bickering. ‘I would suggest you tell us now, otherwise –’

The bedroom door cracked open, and everyone whirled around as Sophie poked her head into the room, her eyes lighting up when she saw the Guardians.

‘Bunny!’ she squealed, running up to him with her arms stretched wide. Bunny rose on the tips of his toes, freezing in place as Sophie wrapped her arms around his leg, nuzzling his fur with her cheek. She failed to notice his rigid posture, the stretch of his ears as they flattened against his head, his wide eyes and panicked expression as he stared down at her, bewildered.

‘Sophie, be quiet!’ Jamie hissed, closing his door again. ‘You’re gonna get me in trouble.’

Sophie ignored Jamie, hugging Bunnymund’s leg tighter. She looked up at him, grinning. ‘I’m _so_ happy you’re back! I love all my Easter presents, they’re the best! My favourite is Hoppy!’

‘That’s… That’s great, sheila,’ Bunny said, looking desperately around at the other Guardians. Pitch cocked his head, his eyes narrowing at Bunnymund. His fears clung tight to him like a second skin, difficult for Pitch to pick apart. He had left so quickly, though, returning the little faerie back to Tooth, it had been unclear who he had forgotten, with his memories of all the Guardians still in tact. ‘And, ah, what’s your name?’

There was a pause, and Pitch rolled his head back with a groan, staring up at the ceiling.

‘Of course,’ he muttered. ‘Why _not_ the child?’

‘Bunny,’ Sophie said, her face crumpling in confusion. ‘Don’t you remember me? I’m Sophie.’

‘Bunny, that’s Sophie!’ Jack explained quickly, swinging up from the desk as the young girl looked ready to burst into tears, the guilt on the rabbit’s face comical at any other time if Pitch’s ears weren’t about to be assaulted by the screaming wails of a child.

‘She played in your Warren five years ago, you looked after her until I took her home,’ Jack continued. ‘You called her ankle biter and gave her hugs. She helped with fighting Pitch, too.’

Pitch snorted, but they ignored him. Bunny looked between Jack and Sophie, the gears in his head turning as he absorbed Jack's abridged summary of that Easter. He turned back to the little girl, a smile stretching across his face as he bent down to her level.

‘Nooo, you can’t be Sophie,’ he said, reaching out and ruffling her hair. ‘You’re too tall to be Sophie, she’s just a little ankle biter this high.’

He waved his hand at a vague height from the floor, but it worked. Her face lit up, and she giggled, patting his arm in light reprimand.

‘Bunny! I grew bigger! I _am_ Sophie!’ she said, tugging on his fur.

‘Eh, only one way to prove that,’ Bunny replied, stretching his arms out wide. ‘Sophie gives the best hugs. Let’s see.’

Sophie squealed, and jumped up, wrapping her arms around Bunny’s neck. He reeled back from the force of her exuberance, steadying himself, and wrapped his arms around her. He picked her up and held her as she snuggled in close, rambling inanely to him about childish things. Pitch didn’t envy him, and turned his focus to the other Guardians.

‘That would explain him being more stick in mud,’ North murmured, and Sandy shrugged his shoulders. Mother Nature sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingers.

‘The reason for the blizzard?’ she asked, her cold green eyes flicking over to Jack.

‘We found Mother Goose,’ he replied.

‘Mother Goose is in Burgess!’ Jamie said immediately after him. The Guardians noticed Jack flinch, and Bunny cocked his head towards him.

‘Is this true?’ North asked, and Sandy’s pictograms danced over his head in rapid progression, becoming more erratic as they formed and changed.

‘Are you sure?’ Mother Nature demanded.

‘Her name is Satu—’ Jack began.

‘She’s called Satu,’ Jamie said. Pitch glanced out the corner of his eye as Jack curled in on himself, hunching smaller. His hood hid his face, but not the dark cloak he wore around him, nor the hitching of his shoulders as he tried to stop himself crying again. The Guardians definitely noticed, their gazes falling on Jack, to Jamie, and back again as the teenager seemed to completely ignore Jack. ‘She used to be our babysitter. She told us stories, we'd use them for games and adventures.’

‘Why was she not brought to the pole? Why is she not being guarded?’ Mother Nature demanded. ‘Rumpelstiltskin’s deal-’

‘She can’t see us,’ Jack interrupted.

‘She walked through Pitch,’ Jamie explained, nodding to Pitch. ‘Pitch said Rumpelstiltskin is the one behind all this, he’s here too.’

‘He’s scary,’ Sophie said.

‘And something about a deal you guys made is why the adults are getting sick,’ Jamie continued.

‘ _That’s_ what he’s taking instead of the children?’ North asked. Pitch nodded.

‘He wants us out of the way, one way, or another,’ Jack said. ‘And it puts the kids in danger, with no adults to look after them.’

‘We’re all screwed if he’s hurting the adults, there’ll be no one to look after anyone,’ Jamie said, worrying his lip. The Guardians stared at Jack, and he tensed beside Pitch.

‘Jack…’ Bunny said, narrowing his eyes. Jack shook his head, covering his eyes with one hand, refusing to look at them. His fear rolled off him in waves, quickly turning into white panic as the heavy stares of the Guardians fell on him. Outside, the blizzard howled.

‘Me and the others tried looking into it, tried to figure out if there was a pattern,’ Jamie said, hopping off his bed and heading to his desk. ‘Here, I’ll show you.’

‘Jack!’ Bunny warned, and Jack raised his head, his eyes widening as he scrambled to twist out of the way, bumping into the wall, tripping over his own feet. He sucked in a sharp breath, a high pitched keen escaping through his clenched teeth as Jamie walked through him, and he curled over himself, clawing at the material of his hoodie. Pitch winced, feeling a pang of unwanted sympathy for him, but did nothing but watch as the Guardians stood in silence, staring at him in shock. Jamie looked up at them, his brow furrowed in confusion.

‘What?’

* 

Jack’s breath shuddered in his chest, his lungs constricting as pins and needles exploded across his skin. He curled his fingers around his staff, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to stop the embarrassing noises bubbling in his throat escaping past his lips. Tears welled behind his closed eyelids, and he felt the weight of the Guardian’s stares on him, crowding him.

‘Jack,’ Bunny said, and Jack tensed, shook his head. The walls closed in on him, cold sweat prickling on his skin as he tried to breathe, tried to stop shaking. He could feel Pitch feeding on his fears, Mother Nature’s cold stare. He didn’t want any of it; didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be hounded for answers. He didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could do: he turned and scrambled out the window in the blizzard still raging across Burgess.

He heard his name being called, but he ignored it, shooting through the storm blindly, his tears freezing on his eyelashes as he choked down his sobs. He veered through the air, struggling to maintain his path as the wind swirled around him, shrieking in his ear. He wiped his sleeve across his face, tried to clear his vision, and shot for the edge of town, into the forest where his lake resided.

The trees rose up in front of him, their gnarled branches bowed over from the winds, the wood roaring as it bent sharply in the gale and he flew towards the dark paths between the trunks, wanting to disappear into the shadows when something caught the corner of his eye. An instinctual flare of fear surged in him before his mind had caught up to his body, and he swung away just as a Fearling jumped from the branches, reaching it’s long, lanky arms towards him. He threw his staff up automatically, sending a crack of frost lightning into its chest. It fell from the air, collapsing onto the snow as he landed several feet away, the wind and snow whipping at his hair, blinding him in the flurry. He turned and squinted his eyes against the blizzard, saw the dark shape wriggle onto its feet and turn to snarl at him, it's unnervingly human face empty of eyes or a nose. The light from his staff cast a blue glow across the snow as he raised his staff, readied himself to meet it when a boomerang slammed into its temple and knocked it flat to the ground, unmoving.

‘Jack!’

Jack spun around at the sound of his name, saw Bunny loping through the high snow, and stumbled back, turning away.

‘Go away!’ he shouted, wading through the snow, away from Bunny, away from the forest that was likely riddled with Fearlings and whatever else Rumpelstiltskin wanted to send after them. He heard Bunny approach, faster than he could get away as he tried to run, half falling before strong hands grabbed his shoulders and spun him round. He tried to wriggle out of his grip, pushing at his chest. ‘Let go of me!’

‘Jack! Jack, stop!’ Bunny commanded. Jack jerked back, tried to slip out of Bunny’s hold, and Bunny growled, pulling him in closer. ‘That’s _enough_!’

Jack jerked to a stop, slamming the butt of his staff against the ground, and the world fell silent.

Bunny blinked, looking around in surprise: they stood in a small sphere, the wind and snow battering against an invisible barrier. Jack avoided Bunny’s eyes, staring off to the side as his eyes welled with fresh tears, blurring his vision till he couldn’t see anything except the glow of his staff in the darkness. Bunny relaxed his grip, dropping his arms away and wrapping them around himself.

‘Trying to set a new record after ’68?’ Bunny asked, kicking the snow at his feet. Jack said nothing as his breath hitched in his chest, his face crumpling even as he tried to control himself. He dropped his staff to his side, his free hand covering his face as he breathed a sob. Bunny huffed a breath, edging closer to him.

‘Breathe, Jack,’ Bunny said. ‘Just breathe, mate.’

‘I can’t,’ Jack whined, his chest jerking with every short, rushed breath that escaped his lungs. He wrapped his arm around his middle, wanted it to be enough to hold himself together, his shoulders heaving with the force of his tears. He thought he’d have cried all his tears through the beginning of the storm, through the first three centuries, but no, he had more to give, and Bunny just stared at him, coaxing him to breathe, to calm down. He didn’t want it, didn’t want to be coddled when North already worried that he wouldn’t handle Rumpelstiltskin or losing his memories, and now Bunny had lost all bite with him.

‘You’re doing it now, mate,’ Bunny said, leaning in closer to him. ‘You’re doing fine.’

Jack shook his head, coughing around another sob. He drew in a ragged breath, only for it to escape him in a fractured cry. Embarrassed, his cheeks frosted over, but he couldn’t move, trapped in the middle of the storm with Bunny hovering over him, thinking about the look on the Guardians faces when they realised… when they realised…

‘Jack!’ Bunny said sharply as he keened again, rocking back and forth.

‘He took it,’ he gasped. He didn’t think Bunny would hear him over the blizzard. ‘He took it.’

‘Took what? Jack, what _happened_?’ Bunny asked, his ears pushed forward. He reached out one hand and rested it on Jack’s shoulder. Jack remembered the enveloping hug Nightlight had received from Bunny when he first saw him in the Workshop, and the memory brought a fresh wave of tears. The ugly monster under his skin reared up, and he twisted his shoulder out of Bunny’s grip. Bunny let him, curling his arm back around him.

‘Rumpelstiltskin,’ Jack said, gasping around the name as he remembered the sickening pull, the wash of cold when he had snatched the kids’ belief from him. ‘We went to find Mother Goose – Satu – but Rumpelstiltskin was already there. He was going to kill her and I… I didn’t know what else to _do_ , she couldn’t see either of us, we couldn’t take her back to the Pole and Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpelstiltskin said he’d make another deal—’

‘Jack!’

‘And he gave us the time again,’ Jack continued, speaking over Bunny. ‘He gave us time to get her to believe in us, he said he didn’t care about Mother Goose, not really, he had bigger fish to fry and he’ll take one memory from us for every day we fail and the kids are still safe and he’s attacking the adults instead but he wouldn’t make the deal unless I gave him something else and… and… I couldn’t give up my power to him, or my centre or my life, but I _would’ve_ , if it had given you guys a shot, I would’ve given it up...’

‘Jack!’

Jack shook his head, keeping his face covered. He didn’t want to see the look on Bunny’s face, if it was reproach or disgust or anger, he couldn’t bear to face him. He swallowed thickly, gasping for breath.

‘He took my belief,’ Jack said. ‘He took it as part of the deal.’

Bunny said nothing, shocked into silence.

'Jack...'

'I'm sorry! I didn't know what else to do!'

‘Jack, you don't have to... We’ll get it back, mate. Once everything is over and done with, we’ll get it back.’

‘He said I won’t. He said I’ll never get it back,' Jack said, choking around the lump in his throat.

'We'll find a way. I promise, Jack, we'll find a way,' Bunny said.

Jack sniffled, wiping his hand down his face. He stared at Bunny’s feet, unable to meet his eye.

‘We’re going to lose another memory soon,’ he said.

‘Yep,’ Bunny said, sounding as happy about it as Jack. He sighed, scratching his nails through his fur.

‘I can’t lose anything else, Bunny. I _can’t_.’

‘We don’t have a choice, mate. Rules are rules.’

Jack huffed a breath, coughed to clear his throat. He pressed his forehead against the crook of his staff, leaning against it heavily. His bones were lead inside him, dragging him down; all he had wanted was to take his little sister ice skating before the start of spring and everything thawed. He hadn’t asked to be dropped in freezing waters and pulled back out into a life of invisibility and loneliness, he hadn’t wanted any of it. He had—

\-- A piercing shriek stabbed through his mind, and he doubled over with the pain of it, his hand flying to his head as his equilibrium got knocked off, leaving him reeling where he stood. He bore his weight on his staff, barely kept himself standing as nausea rolled through him, threatening to upheave his stomach as the seconds seemed to stretch.

He groaned as the pain and the sickness seeped away, and he tried not to think, tried not to search his mind for missing pieces, for the gaps that stretched over years, taking chunks of his mind into empty depths. He felt it, even as he tried not to search for it, some part of his mind that he didn’t understand, knowledge about himself that felt wrong and out of place.

Bunny stood tense and still in front of him, silence stretching between them as they came back to themselves. Jack rubbed his head, dragging his fingers through his hair before he looked up at Bunny – he still remembered Bunny – and met his sharp, unsettling stare. His nose twitched, his ears flicked back and forth as Bunny stared at him, looking him up and down and up again. The silence stretched on between them, and Jack swallowed.

‘Bunny?’ he asked, noticing how Bunny’s nose wrinkled when he spoke, his eyes narrowing at Jack.

‘Bunny,’ he repeated. ‘Who do you remember?’

Bunny said nothing, studying him like he’d never seen Jack before in his life. He shuffled away from Jack, thought better of it, and stepped back to where he had stood. He looked down at Jack’s bare feet, his eyes leaping to the staff in his hand, the frost patterns on his hoodie, before turning his gaze to the blizzard around them.

‘Bunny?’ Jack repeated, his voice quiet and broken. Bunny didn’t reply, and Jack closed his eyes, dropping his forehead against the crook of his staff as the snow came down harder around them.


	18. Bare Your Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a trip to Punjam Hy Loo, and Rumpelstiltskin gets more than what he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get the last bits and pieces of this chapter written up around my uni work, so while RHW is still on hiatus for the time being, this has an irregular enough update schedule to be considered semi hiatus. This is one of the longer chapters through, >11K, so I probably won't be able to update for a while after this.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I'm not entirely happy how it turned out, but then, I can never get what I want in my head onto the screen, so I hope it's still enjoyable to read.  
> xXx

Tooth started awake, her cheek pressed against the cool metal surface of a circular platform. Light reflected off the gilded edges, and she blinked against the brightness, rubbing her temples against the headache blooming in her skull. The drone of her fairies circling the towering, ornate columns hanging from the ceilings didn’t help; already she could tell a large chunk of her memory had disappeared, an unnerving black out falling over parts of her mind that she could no longer access. Looking around, she pulled herself onto her feet and flitted up into the air.

She faltered to a stop, and blinked. Looking around, her mind finally processed what she saw.

Wide, gilded platforms and great, monolithic columns the colour of a summer sunrise hung staggered through the vast hall, smaller chambers connected to them by spindly bridges and curved arches, ringed with sprawling ledges stacked over each other, perfect for perching. Over the edge of the platform she hovered above, she saw the yawning cavern beneath her where a great valley resided, bursting with colourful flowers and long, serpentine rivers that flowed through the mountain, small waterfalls bubbling over stone cliffs, the water’s diamond surface glittering in the sunlight.

‘Where…?’

She wracked her brain, trying to come up with some shred of information when the overwhelming disorientation rocked her to the core. She remembered nothing of the vast hall she stood in: not the honeycomb walls of polished metal mesh that caged her in and reflected light across the bright stone, nor the rich valley deep below her, nor the colourful, towering monoliths that surrounded her. Still she looked, willing herself to feel a spark of recognition, but none came. The fairies whirled around the elaborate structures in a cyclone of shimmering blue-green, as lost and as confused as her.

She spun in the air, the hall blurring into a swirl of colour before her eyes until she slowed to a stop, staring at the grand hall in silence.

The numb confusion ebbed away the longer she stared, her feathers rising stiffly down the length of her body. She gritted her teeth until her jaw spasmed. Curling her hands into fists until her nails dug deep grooves into the skin on her palm, she threw her head back, and screamed.

She screamed until her breath ran out, until her throat burned and her head pounded.

Then she dropped to her knees, her head in her hands. Her anger sharpened her mind into a singular focus as she tried to piece together the fragments that remained.

She had _woken up_ here. She collected teeth for their memories, all the baby teeth of all the children in the world. So many teeth; they needed to go _somewhere_.

She looked up at the geometric-patterned towers, the purples and pinks of the walls contrasting with the shimmering gold ringing the ledges, but the answer she looked for eluded her. She pushed her fingers through her plumage, her nails digging into her scalp as she clenched her hands into fists around the feathers, pulling at them until they strained in her skin.

Everything was _gone_.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed: the last thing she had done before she had fallen asleep... or unconscious…

She sucked in a breath through her teeth, panic threatening to empty her stomach. A soft snort broke through her thoughts, and she whirled around at the sensation of warm air ghosting across her neck, looking up into the golden eyes of a Nightmare.

She shrieked, leaping into the air and shoved at its neck. ‘You! What are you doing in here, you ghastly thing? Where is Pitch –’

She stopped, her hands pressed against the soft, shifting black sand on its shoulder as a foreign voice whispered in her mind, high and strident. Her eyes widened, staring at the Nightmare as it whispered of a conversation Pitch had had with her when he and Sandy had came to visit her. She remembered the meeting like almost remembering a partial-dream that refused to be forgotten.

The Nightmare cocked its head and stared at her through one blazing gold eye, and she swallowed, fear rippling up her spine. Her eyes darted around the cavernous hall, the staggered columns and chambers and platforms belying the sense of space the open walls provided. She leaned in close, her hands clenched into fists against the Nightmare.

‘Are you sure?’ she whispered. ‘Is he here?’

The Nightmare nodded.

Tooth closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She nodded, reaching a decision, and looked at the Nightmare.

‘Call on Pitch, and get my fairies out of here,’ she ordered in low tones. ‘Do not leave them until they’re all a safe distance away. Only then come find me.’

The Nightmare hesitated, before it nodded, and galloped away off the edge of the platform, circling up to the cloud of fairies above them. Tooth watched as the fairies were herded out through the gaps in the walls, the Nightmares gathering around them and leading them out of the mountain palace. The comforting buzzing of their wings quietened to a hum, then a whisper, then nothing at all. An unnerving quiet settled over the palace; a dead, weighted silence without the life her fairies brought to it.

The feathers on the nape of her neck bristled; she breathed in deeply to calm herself, and turned to face Rumpelstiltskin.

‘ _You_ are trespassing,’ Tooth said, hooking her fingers into claws as she took to the air, hovering above the platform. Her wings buzzed with a wasp-like drone, a warning in the eerie quiet.

‘Consider it a business call,’ Rumpelstiltskin said from the opposite side of the platform, his hands buried in the pockets of his grey trousers, a smile on his thin lips as his empty eyes absorbed the surrounding hall.

‘Not interested.’

‘You haven’t even heard my-’

‘Not. _Interested_ ,’ she hissed, her lips pulled back in a snarl. ‘You’ve taken more than enough from us, do you really think I’d let you take _more_?’

Rumpelstiltskin paused, pursing his lips, and stared at her with empty eyes. She glared back, her clawed fingers flexing. She rolled her shoulders, loose and ready, her feathers prickling against the sense of impending violence, like the electric tingle in the air before a thunderstorm.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, cocking his head. ‘Considering what I’m willing to offer, I think you would.’

Tooth snorted in disbelief. ‘You overestimate yourself.’

‘Not even a little bit curious?’ he needled. ‘I would be most generous –’

He broke off with a grimace, pain flickering across his face. He reached up with one hand and pressed two fingers against his temple.

Tooth narrowed her eyes in suspicion, before realisation dawned on her.

‘Having trouble with the darkness, Rumpelstiltskin?’ she drawled. ‘Better men than you have tried controlling it, and suffered far worse.’

Rumpelstiltskin smiled through the pain and dropped his trembling hand to his side, rolling his neck. ‘I would believe you were actually complimenting Pitch, had I not known you thought so little of _me_ that any semblance of praise for him is negligible.’

‘You’re avoiding my question, which means it’s _true_ ,’ Tooth said. ‘You’re _unbalanced_ , Rumpelstiltskin, and nothing you take from us will remedy that.’

‘Not even the _Light_?’ he asked, levelling his gaze at her, and his smile widened. ‘Ah, I see by the way your face changed, you know exactly what I am talking about.’

Tooth blinked, snapping her mouth closed with a sharp click of teeth, the puzzle pieces sliding into place.

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. ‘I admit I have made several mistakes; I thought this would be short work, but still you Guardians keep throwing obstacles in my way. It’s rather bad for business, you understand. The trade off for wasting my time has been found wanting. I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement to rectify that.’

‘The trade – _stay away from the memories_!’ Tooth snarled, rising higher into the air. Her plumage flared, the feathers standing rigid and sharp, like a crown of horns upon her head.

‘Oh, calm yourself,’ he drawled with a dismissive flick of his hand. ‘If I remember correctly, the “Tooth Fairy” only concerns herself with the teeth of human children, and I’m not here for those.’

‘You _stay_ away from them!’

‘Quite frankly, my dear, you’re in no position to stop me,’ Rumpelstiltskin said. ‘I am, however, loathe to resort to any sort of violence, and I’m willing to trade.’

‘You have _nothing,_ ’ she snarled, and dived into an attack.

‘The Sister’s of Flight?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tooth stopped short, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, and she looked down her nose at him. ‘Impossible. They’re _dead_.’

‘My dear, I can make the impossible, possible,’ he drawled, walking over to stand under where she hovered. ‘Death doesn’t hold weight with me, logic and reason can be broken and rearranged in a single afternoon, with time for tea afterwards. I can return what was once lost, just as I can take away everything you hold dear. This doesn’t have to end in blood: just give me permission to search the tooth boxes belonging to the spirits, and you can have _everything_ you have ever wanted back in your grasp. All _you_ have to do, is say _yes_.’

He extended one hand out in front of him, palm open and tilted slightly so Tooth could see it was empty.

Tooth sank down to the platform, standing on the very edge. She had no memory of the palace halls, but she didn’t need one to see the magnitude of it; a lonely place for the last of one’s kind. If the Sisters of Flight were returned to her, if they came _back_ , they could tip the scales in their favour against Rumpelstiltskin and the Fearlings. They could help fill the gaps in her memory that the teeth held in a fist-sized ruby - now lost somewhere in a palace she could no longer navigate - couldn’t replace.

He would end up stealing the memories, eventually. It only delayed the inevitable to keep him away from the tooth boxes, but with the Sisters of Flight returned, they’d have more strength against the Fearlings. The deal would turn against Rumpelstiltskin eventually with them by the Guardian’s side, if she led them against the Fearlings in the final battle when Mother Goose was found and Rumpelstiltskin had fallen by his own hubris. Life would return to normal, _better_ than normal. No more solitude, no more loneliness, only seeing the Guardians in times of emergencies or threats, only having her role as the Tooth Fairy encompass her identity.

She looked down at Rumpelstiltskin’s hand, before her eyes turned upwards to meet his. The empty blackness stared back at her, the corners crinkled by a wide smile showing a hint of teeth. His hand hung in the air between them promisingly, his empty palm turned slightly to the ceiling and open, stretched out for her to take.

Her own hand was damp with sweat where it hung at her side, restless, her fingers itching to move. Still Rumpelstiltskin said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them, letting her take her time to decide.

His hand hung in the air between them, his palm open and tilted up slightly. Empty.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her hand curled into a fist by her side, and her eyes snapped open with a glare.

‘No.’

She drew her hand back and slashed upwards at his face, as if to gouge out eyes that weren’t there.

He jerked back, his hand closing around her wrist and he swung them round, tossing her to the opposite side of the plinth.

She twisted in the air, and whirled around, her fingers hooked into pointed claws. She snarled, baring her teeth at Rumpelstiltskin, her plumage fanned out around her head like a crown.

‘You took my mother from me,’ she spat. ‘You took my home. For that, you’ll _bleed_.’

Rumpelstiltskin sneered, pushing his tousled hair back from his face as he straightened, brushing six iridescent green feathers from his fingers.

‘ _Remind_ of someone, do I? Well, I’m afraid you’ll be rather _busy_ to make good on your little threat.’

A shadow passed over Tooth, and her gaze shot upward as two more followed the same path, and three aquiline creatures circled them overhead. Rumpelstiltskin grinned, a dark spark in the hollow pits of his eyes, and raised his arm, letting one of the creatures drop down and settle on it while the other two perched on ledges above them.

Each one was the size of a condor, with vivid red plumage and long peacock tails, standing on scaled, clawed feet with five talons on each foot. From the chest upwards, they were human in appearance, their long fiery hair cascading over their shoulders to cover their bare breasts. They had beautiful long faces with thin lips and long, straight noses, but their wide, iridescent eyes focused on Tooth with a savage hunger.

Tooth recognised them in a moment, drawing back in the air.

‘Alkonosts,’ she whispered. ‘That’s how…’

‘Clever girl,’ Rumpelstiltskin said with a smile. ‘So, if you know what they are, and what they do, you should know it’s not a good idea to be in ear shot of them.’

Tooth stared at him in horror, her gaze shifting to the alkonost on his arm. The alkonost opened her mouth, inhaling a lungful of air, and Tooth slammed her hands over her ears, diving over the edge of the platform. The two perching on the ledges spread their wings and chased after her, while Rumpelstiltskin’s laugh echoed through the cavernous chamber, bouncing off the columns and plinths as he wandered to the edge and looked over the lip.

‘Try as you might, little Tooth Fairy, you’re still just one more pawn for the taking!’ he shouted, his laughter ringing through the palace, following Tooth as she plummeted through the hall, diving under bridges and looping around the platforms’ supports. She glanced over her shoulder to meet the eyes of one of the alkonosts weaving around the columns behind her: she opened her mouth, and Tooth jerked around another corner, keeping her hands over her ears.

_Don’t think of anything. Don’t think of anything. Don’t think---_

A piercing shriek – muffled by her hands but not silenced – split the air, and Tooth squeezed her eyes shut as pain lanced through her head: her mind was drawn across a grater, her memories skittering away like confetti in the wind. She half-curled in a ball in the air, dropping dangerously low before the cry stopped, and she blinked wetly, her head throbbing to the beat of her rapid-fire heart.

She raced through the names of all her Guardians in panic as she pulled herself higher into the air and veered into what appeared to be the outer ring of the palace halls. Each name came to her, but scraps were missing though, small details she should know about them. She gritted her teeth, her hands balled into fists. Beads of sweat prickled her brow, her nails leaving deep grooves in her palm, and she dove out through the latticed wall into open air outside the palace.

A jungle spread out to the horizon in every direction, crystalline blue rivers cutting a path through the emerald green. The mountain range curved around the edge of the jungle in either direction, the sharp cliffs feeding the serpentine waterways with roaring waterfalls guarded by shimmering rainbows. The sky was clear of clouds, the heat from the sun causing a haze to settle over the canopy. The trees creaked faintly in the breeze that crept through the branches, the jungle unnaturally quiet, as if it were holding its breath.

She turned away from it and flew along the mountainside, following the open walls of the palace and veered through an ornately wrought arch into the grand chamber where she had wakened. The sprawling towers and plinths staggered around the seven central columns provided a number of hiding places, and she ducked under a curved bridge of latticed metal, pressing back against the support column.

Hiding in the shadows, her gaze flicked around the wide open space around her, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, panic twisting her stomach into knots. Her breath rattled in her chest, loud in the silence. She sucked in deeper breaths, holding them for long seconds before releasing them, trying to calm the pounding in her ears as she searched for the alkonosts.

The silence stretched around her, and she pressed her hand against her chest, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Her gaze flitted around the bright hall, beams of golden sunlight filtering through the open walls. She exhaled, long and steady, and looked up through the latticed metal above her.

An alkonost stared back at her.

She cried out in fright, diving from under the bridge.

The alkonost slammed into her, sending them tumbling through the air and Tooth twisted under her, trying to break free when long, hooked claws sank into her thigh, and she shrieked in pain as blood erupted from the gouges, spilling over her feathers and down her leg. She grabbed blindly through her tears, yanking at the alkonost’s hair and feathers, before she managed to twist her body round and drew her hand back. Jabbing forward, she poked the alkonost in the eye, forcing her fingers deep into the socket.

The alkonost screamed silently, the talons in Tooth’s thigh loosening, tearing out a handful of feathers with it and Tooth dropped, bolting down under the grand hall into a new, brightly lit cavern.

Down in the valley, the mountain stone had been scooped out and replaced with sprawling vertical gardens climbing the walls, and high, wide arches carved out from what remained of the rock curved over her head, vines and flowering plants and ferns hanging low from where they’d taken root in the cracked stone. The air was fragranced with a thousand blooming flowers – orchids and lotus and marigolds, an array of colour exploding against the stone. Delicately painted murals adorned the sanded walls that weren’t hidden by the heavy foliage of the warped trees clinging to the walls, their roots tangled in the opalescent rivulets of minerals running through the rock face that made it glitter and shine under the light.

She barrelled under the giant arches and ducked behind one, her back pressed flat against the warm stone. She heard the beating of the alkonosts’ wings stir the air as they flew into the cavern, and pressed herself closer against the rock, craning her neck to peer around the corner of the column.

The gardens were still, a gentle breeze blowing through the open valley and making the trees whisper among themselves. Vines swayed lazily under the high sun shining through the crater carved out from the mountain top, sending dancing tiger stripe patterns across the soft, loamy grass. On the peak of one of the rock arches, the two alkonosts perched, scanning the ground and walls for her, one with an eye squeezed shut and dripping blood down the sharp angle on her cheekbone, a scowl twisting her features.

She pushed herself back against the rock, her fingers curling into fists and she squeezed her eyes shut, knocking her head back against the stone. She couldn’t put her weight on her right leg, and she looked down at the damage; a large, ragged patch of torn feathers revealed bare skin, five deep gouges spilling hot, dark blood down her leg. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, smothering a hiccupping sob, her ears straining to listen for the alkonosts while her eyes scanned for a new exit.

A shadow flitted across her peripheral vision, and her head snapped round to find it, her eyes falling on a singular Nightmare in the shadows of low-hanging tree boughs. She tensed, her brow furrowing in confusion as the Nightmare slid into the shadows, and appeared next to her a moment later, one of her mini fairies hidden between the barbs of its mane.

‘ _Baby Tooth_?’

Baby Tooth pushed herself up to lean on the crest of the Nightmare’s forehead with a squeak.

‘What are you doing? Why is this Nightmare-?’

Baby Tooth chirped and squeaked, and Tooth’s eyes widened as she listened to Baby Tooth regale paths and rooms throughout the palace Tooth had no knowledge of, hidden treasuries and armouries deep in the mountain – and she finally pointed down at the Nightmare. Tooth looked round the side of it, through the shimmering black sand, and saw two sheathed swords held in its belly.

She pushed herself away from the stone column, leaning on her good leg as she thrust her hands through the shifting sands. Withdrawing her twin talwar blades, she strapped them to her hips and unsheathed them, the curved metal reflecting the sunlight with a brilliant white glint.

‘Baby Tooth, I need you to stay hidden until I deal with them,’ she ordered, peering round the edge of the stone in search of the alkonosts. ‘Then we find Rumpelstiltskin.’

Baby Tooth squeaked an affirmative, and patted the Nightmare on the head. It slunk back into the shadows with her, hidden from sight, and Tooth rose into the air. Her thigh throbbed with pain, but she ignored it, and peered around the corner of the stone, watching the two alkonost on their perch as their eyes scanned the grounds, their nostrils flaring as they tried to catch her scent under the overwhelming fragrance of the blooming flowers.

Tooth wrung her hands around the grip of her sword, and smashed the pommel against the stone. The alkonosts whipped their heads round at the noise, and they flew into the air, gliding towards Tooth's hiding place.

She listened to the beat of their wings grow steadily louder, shaking as she tried to focus through the pain in her leg. Turning her head to the side, the rough stone warm against her cheek, the first alkonost came into view on her left side, and she swung round, driving one of her talwar through the alkonost’s soft belly.

The shriek that assaulted her ears was mind numbing, her vision falling to black and then back again, chunks of her memory swallowed whole by the scream. Pain exploded in her shoulders, and she fell in the air, the second alkonost clinging to her back, her talons digging deep into Tooth's shoulders. Tooth snarled through her pain, and heard the alkonost behind her inhale deeply, ready to scream again.

Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the talwar from the first alkonost, swinging her leg up to kick it away and brought both swords together. The two tips of the talwar gleamed in the light through the blood, and with one final surge of power, she drove the swords back over her head.

The alkonost’s scream died in her throat, the air whistling past her lips like a deflating balloon as Tooth’s two swords protruded from her chest. Tooth, trembling with pain and exhaustion, her hands slick on the grip, twisted the blades with a wet, squelching crunch until she felt he alkonost’s hold on her shoulders loosen. Her weight fell from Tooth’s back, freeing her and they toppled through the air in a wild spin. Tooth released her grip on the sword hilts before she crashed into a deep, turquoise blue pool, sinking deep below the surface. Red slicked through the vibrant blue, like oil, diluting into pale pink swirls that spread through the water.

The pool stilled, ripples lapping at the edges of the pool and disappearing, the surface becoming smooth and calm.

Tooth broke the surface with a gasp, sending waves rippling across the pool to smash against the bank, and she pulled herself up onto the grass verge, her feathers heavy and waterlogged. She coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Looking up, she searched for the alkonost, and saw its body lying on a bed of rocks by the pool’s edge, the talwar swords protruding from it at odd angles.

She stood, fluffing her feathers to dislodge the water, and stumbled when she put her weight on her right leg, fresh blood bubbling from the gouges. She winced, surveying the damage. The wounds on her shoulders were shallower, but they burned, her arms alight with pain as she raised them to grab the hilt of the swords and yanked them from the alkonost’s body.

The alkonost stared up at her with blank eyes, mouth hanging open in one last scream. Tooth looked into the dead eyes impassively, feeling parts of her mind knitting back together, flashes of information coming back to her, like finally remembering where you left something after hours of searching. Bunny’s aversion to chocolate, Sandy’s full name: with the alkonost dead, the scraps of memories it took filtered back to her, puzzle pieces slotting together to make her a little more whole again.

A quiet snort drew her attention, and she looked over her shoulder at the Nightmare trotting towards her, Baby Tooth sitting on its head, looking worried. Tooth glanced at her swords, holding one aloft and examining it, dark, slick clumps of viscera clinging to the metal.

‘Well, I still don’t have all my memories back,’ she mused, turning the blade so the edge caught the light through the rivulets of blood dripping down it. She glanced back at Baby Tooth and the Nightmare with dark, sharp eyes, a small, cold smile on her lips. ‘Let’s see if Rumpelstiltskin’s little helper can do something about that.’

* * *

Baby Tooth led her back into the grand main hall, and Tooth paused on the way, slicing through a set of flimsy, billowing sheer drapes lining the open arches of a hallway built on the outside of the mountain, allowing a stunning view of the jungle below. Ripping the material into long shreds, she wrapped her leg and shoulders in make-shift bandages, padding the wrappings with extra material at the wounds to keep pressure on them, the pale cream darkening with blots of blood. The tightness was uncomfortable, but not unmanageable: she could still fly, and while the material pulled at her arms when she raised them, she had most of her movement left. It would have to do.

Baby Tooth and the Nightmare took her down one of the lower corridors in the mountain, and Tooth felt the natural decline in the passageway as they travelled lower and lower into the ground. The golden canopy and carved marble columns disappeared behind them, and the polished walls and smooth, detailed supports gave way to more rugged, rough stone, the walls inlaid with a treasure hold of gems and stones. Luminescent crystals crowded the ceiling down the long stretch into the darkness, offering a muted rainbow of light to guide their way, and shadows danced over the smooth, curving stone walls rippled with streams of colour, glittering like dream sand in the soft light.

They stayed close together, creeping down the long corridor when a noise up ahead made them tense, and they ducked close to the wall. Tooth turned to Baby Tooth, her face dimly lit by a glowing blue crystal.

‘Baby Tooth, how much further are the spirit archives?’ she whispered.

Baby Tooth pointed straight ahead with a soft chirp.

Tooth nodded. ‘Okay, I need you to leave now.’

Baby Tooth squeaked, shaking her head in refusal and crossing her arms.

‘Baby Tooth, I need to know you’re safe!’ Tooth said. ‘You have helped me so much my darling, but I can not have you in harm’s way. You _must_ leave.’

Baby Tooth scowled at her, her eyes shining in the light of the crystals. Tooth smiled at her, and transferred her swords to one hand so she could stroke Baby Tooth’s head soothingly.

‘I promise, it’ll be okay,’ she said quietly. ‘But right now, I need you to return to your sisters. Now.’

Baby Tooth looked up her with a scowl, before she nodded her head dejectedly. Tooth looked down at the Nightmare, jabbing a finger at it.

‘You look after her and her sisters, understand?’

The Nightmare snorted, nodding. Baby Tooth patted its head, and it swung away, disappearing into the shadows and leaving Tooth alone to face Rumpelstiltskin. Her shoulders and thigh throbbed, the surge of adrenaline that had numbed her from the pain disappearing and leaving her with the burning pain in its wake. She grimaced, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to ease the pain and swallowed, gripping her swords in her damp hands. She looked down the length of the softly lit corridor, claustrophobia weighing heavy on her chest despite the size of it, and crept towards the noise.

The crystal lights illuminated Rumpelstiltskin approach an intricately carved archway, and she crouched low behind a stone jutting from the wall. The alkonost was no where to be seen, and Tooth searched the corridor before turning her attention to Rumpelstiltskin.

She inhaled deeply, her fingers tapping against the hilt of her swords, and readied to spring up and attack when a heavy weight slammed into her, sending her stumbling back into the hard rock of the cavern wall. Pain exploded down the left side of her face, three long claw marks scratching deep into her cheek and jaw, and she felt blood spill down her face. She gasped, high and breathless, her vision blurring and blackening before returning. She scrambled blindly for her swords with one hand, the other pushing back against the alkonost as it bore down on her, hissing in her face.

Her fingers glanced off the pommel of her sword, and she stretched blindly for it as the alkonost opened her mouth to scream. Her fingers closed around the grip, the leather wrappings warm under her palm, and she screamed wordlessly as she swung the talwar up in a sharp arc.

A short, wet _shlwk_ shot through the air, and the alkonost went limp above her. Against the backdrop of the glowing crystals in the ceiling, the alkonost was a dark shadow above her, the sword protruding from either side of its neck.

With a muffled grunt, Tooth rolled to the side, letting the alkonost drop to the ground with a heavy thump, and the talwar slid free of its neck. Staggering to her feet, she swept up her twin blade from where it lay, and raised her gaze to meet Rumpelstiltskin’s. Catching her breath, she counted the seconds as she shifted through her mind, the torn, ragged gaps strewn open in wait for their contents to be restored.

Minutes ticked by, and nothing sewed the edges together. No pieces aligned, no moment of clarity hit her. She glanced at the dead alkonost, to her talwars, before she raised her eyes to meet Rumpelstiltskin’s, dread already unfurling in her gut. Rumpelstiltskin smiled, his pale face illuminated eerily by the ceiling crystals, his empty eyes swallowed into darkness under the shadow of his brow.

‘Out of luck, my dear. I’ve still got plenty of queens on the board.’

Tooth bared her teeth, her fingers wrapped around the grip of her swords, and leapt at Rumpelstiltskin with a war cry. He anticipated her, dodging the swing of her first sword and grabbing her wrist. He twisted it, and she felt the bones grind together under the force of his hold, her sword slipping from her fingers. Black dots flashed across her vision, tears springing to her eyes, and she gritted her teeth, swallowing the pain when Rumpelstiltskin’s free hand lashed forward, his fingers jabbing into the padding over the alkonost’s gouges.

She yelled wordlessly, swinging her second sword up at his arm. He pulled back, retreating, and she swept up her fallen sword and followed him, her swords singing through the air. Her arms were tired and aching, her head spongy and hot, blind in one eye from the blood dripping into it. He swept her strikes away with ease, but still she retaliated, crossing the swords and slicing them outward. They split across his abdomen even as he jumped back, and they paused, staring at the gash in his suit jacket while he remained unharmed.

He sneered, pulling the jacket from his shoulders. Tooth grinned at his disgust, knowing the picture she painted: her pearly white smile smeared red, the taste on her tongue metallic and sharp, rivers of it trailing paths down her face and through her feathers with an oily slick sheen under the muted illumination of the crystals. Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and she felt each beat reverberate in the pulse of heat in her thigh and her shoulders and her face.

She shifted in the air, and when Rumpelstiltskin discarded the jacket to the side, she struck in that opening, intending to slide a blade between his ribs. He sidestepped sharply, backhanding her against a wall.

She pushed away with her feet and flipped in the air over his head. Pivoting, the tip of one blade reached for his throat. His hand flew up, and there was a heavy crack, a sharp wrench in the air that pulled all the oxygen from it.

The talwar swung by him harmlessly, and Tooth stumbled, off balance by the sudden loss and reprieve of oxygen, and the unbalanced weight in her hand. She raised the talwar in shock, half the blade missing, as if it had been snapped off. The missing piece was no where to be seen, and she looked up at Rumpelstiltskin, who smiled, and raised his hand in the air as if greeting her.

She snarled, sheathing the broken sword and lunged again. He spun, his foot coming up to connect with her injured thigh. Pain exploded up her side, and she shrieked, her vision going black. She gasped, sucking in a lungful of air as fingers closed round her throat, forcing her to her knees with a jolt that shot through her.

Her remaining talwar fell from her hand, clattering to the ground, and she reached for it when the pointed toe of a shiny black boot connected with her stomach. She choked on a scream, collapsing into a ball and clutched her stomach. Her head spun, her vision skewing and stretching with it, and she scrabbled for the talwar, pulling herself across the ground.

‘Oh, dear Toothiana,’ Rumpelstiltskin drawled, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he circled her. ‘You’re not looking too good; but, it needn’t have ended like this. All you had to do was take the deal, and we could have carried on our merry ways.’

Her fingers closed around the grip of the talwar, and Rumpelstiltskin slammed the heel of his boot on the back of her hand, grinding it against the floor. Her fingers spasmed, and she retched when he leaned his weight on it.

‘You know, I do so hate to resort to violence,’ he sighed.

‘You know,’ Tooth snarled through gritted, blood stained teeth. ‘I can’t say I feel the same.’

She twisted, the hand that had been hidden under her unsheathing the broken talwar from her hip, and she lashed out at the foot trapping her hand. The broken blade sank through his heel, breaking through leather and skin and tendons, and Rumpelstiltskin howled in pain, jerking his foot back.

Tooth grabbed the talwar from the ground and surged into the air, slicing it up and Rumpelstiltskin stumbled back, hitting a wall. Raising his head, a long, thin line of golden ichor welled down his forehead, over his eye and across his cheek, escaping down the side of his face. He glared at her through his disarrayed black hair, his hollowed out eyes sparking wild and viciously, his lips parted in a razor sharp snarl. He pulled the broken blade out from his ankle and hobbled onto his feet. Tooth met it stony faced, levelling the sword at his face.

‘New deal,’ she said coldly, bristling at the growing claustrophobia within the cold hallway, Rumpelstiltskin’s presence swelling to dominate the enclosed space. ‘Surrender, and I’ll give you a quick death.’

Rumpelstiltskin dropped the bloody sword, and swept his dark tousled hair back from his face. He sneered, staring at Tooth through half lidded eyes.

‘A tempting offer,’ he spat. ‘But I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. How about this instead: I take every single one of those memories, and you can _join_ your wretched Sisters of Flight.’

He raised his hand, throwing it forward with his finger splayed, and Tooth lurched forward in the air, the sharp pull dragging her towards Rumpelstiltskin’s outstretched palm. The corridor rumbled around her; the ceiling caved in as loose stone was ripped away and swallowed, the walls crumbled around her, the light dying as the crystals disappeared into nothingness. Debris flew past her as she tried to fly away, her wings beating furiously at her back as she fought against the pull.

She lost ground, inch by inch, struggling for breath and scrambling for a purchase on the wall even as it disintegrated under her touch. She looked over her shoulder in panic, and in the last of the light offered by the crystals that remained rooted in the stone, she saw Rumpelstiltskin’s face twisted into a mad, wild grin, his true face slipping through his mask. She looked away and grit her teeth, pushing herself against the all consuming vortex when a stray chunk of rock flew at her, and she ducked sharply, losing her momentum and rolled back through the air, dragged closer into nothingness.

‘No!’ she screamed, instinct overriding all other thoughts, and she slammed the talwar into the floor, sinking it deep into a fissure in the rock. It held fast, and she clung to the grip until her knuckles turned white, her shoulders burning so hot under her feathers it made her feel sick and light headed, but still she held fast.

The rumbling in the corridor grew louder, large portions of the high walls breaking apart and crashing to the ground, tumbling into grain sized fragments before disappearing into nothing at all. Each layer of rock was revealed and pulled away, a growing crater where the corridor once lay. The walls shook, a thunderous roar echoing through the darkness, and Tooth’s eyes snapped open, realising the thunderous hum was not the corridor falling to pieces around her.

The oxygen-stealing pull cut off with a snap, and Tooth collapsed to the ground. Rolling over, she looked past Rumpelstiltskin, down the corridor she had travelled, and Rumpelstiltskin twisted round, followed her gaze as the roar grew louder. Through the darkness, some crystals still shone, reflecting off thousands upon thousands of iridescent green-blue feathers as her fairies came into sight, barrelling down the long stone corridor in a massive swarm. In the lead, on the head of a Nightmare, Baby Tooth screamed a battle cry.

Tooth watched as her fairies charged at Rumpelstiltskin, and in a eye blink she lost sight of him in the whirlwind of blue and green that dragged him back the way they had came. Left alone in the sudden quiet stillness, she blinked, shocked into silence, and stumbled to her feet. Dislodging her talwar from the crack in the ground, she bolted after the horde of buzzing fairies.

* 

They pulled Rumpelstiltskin back into the main hall, diving and twisting around the columns and platforms, before throwing him across the length of a tall platform. He crashed against the mosaic, shattering it, and he rolled to a stop at the edge. The fairies parted around him, spiralling up to the roof in a cyclone of beating wings. Nightmares galloped up onto the surrounding platforms, glancing between themselves and Rumpelstiltskin nervously, skittish and light footed. They flocked to Tooth when she flew into the hall and came to stop above Rumpelstiltskin, hovering in the air as he hobbled to his feet.

In the light of the high sun she could see the damage done more clearly: his right ankle was a mess of tattered material and the golden blood, marking him still as a Celestial despite the kin he’d betrayed and the demotion that had been forced upon him. It ran down his face and neck from the gash she’d given him, spreading into his shirt collar, and dripped from his nose over his lips and chin. He glared up at her, his lips pulled back in a snarl, his breath hissing between his teeth on every heavy exhale.

‘Oh dear, Rumpelstiltskin, you’re not looking too good,’ she drawled.

‘Now, where were we? Oh yes,’ she continued, and raised her sword, looking down the length of her sword at him coldly. ‘Get _out_ of my palace!’

‘You think you can do anything to me?’ he snapped, wiping his mouth with his hand, glancing at the blood smeared across his fingers in disgust. ‘I still have all my pieces in play: maybe next time, I’ll come back with the Fearlings and we’ll see the end to you and your brood.’

‘Go ahead,’ Tooth challenged, revelling in the look on his face, his widening eyes and his gritted teeth. She sneered at him, hard and cruel, her eyes narrowing into glittering, jagged shards. ‘You think the darkness scares me? You can’t control it. You think you can crawl in here trying to _beg_ for an advantage? You have nothing to bargain. You think this is your game? Then set your pieces, move your little _pawns_ , but if you think you can come here and threaten me with them? You forget where you are: you're playing in  _my_ territory, and _I’m_ the only queen here!’

Rumpelstiltskin glared up at her, shaking with rage. His gaze turned to the dozen Nightmares flanking her on either side, stamping the air and shaking their heads, puffs of black sand swirling around their muzzles as they snorted and huffed. Around him, the mini fairies rose in a tidal wave on all sides, thousands upon thousands of eyes boring into him, the beating of their wings an angry buzz throughout the hall, like the inside of a hornet’s nest. Tooth met his glare, her lips pulled back in a snarl. Twisting the talwar in her grip, she screamed a war cry and dived, bringing the blade down in a sharp swing at his head.

The blade crashed against the mosaic, splintering it into fragments, and she dropped onto the platform from the momentum, nearly losing her balance. She spun round, her talwar at her side, her eyes darting around the hall through the cyclone of mini fairies circling her, but she knew she would not find him; the heavy weight he brought to the atmosphere when he arrived had disappeared; the nauseating vertigo, like standing on a ledge and thinking of jumping, no longer affected Tooth.

She huffed tiredly, and her arms fell heavily to her side. Her legs caved under her and she sank to her knees, her thigh flaring in pain, her leg painted red down the torn, ragged feathers. Her arms were alight as blood escaped the bindings and trailed down her arms, over her wrists, between her fingers. The long scratches on her face stung, red hot and throbbing.

A shift in her peripheral vision made her snap her head around, and saw Baby Tooth and the Nightmare waiting for her. She exhaled heavily, shaking her head as she let her chin fall against her chest.

‘I told you to leave with your sisters,’ she scolded. Baby Tooth squeaked back at her, folding her arms and shrugging. Tooth turned to look at her, and raised her eyebrows at the little fairy’s impudence.

_You never told me not to come back with them._

‘Jack’s had too much influence on you,’ Tooth muttered. She pulled the talwar up and dug the tip of the blade into the ground, bearing her weight on the grip and let her head hang low to her chest, closing her eyes. Above her, the steady hum of her fairies offered a focus for her breathing, and she followed it until her shoulders stopped shaking, and the palace slowly stopped spinning.

* * *

‘Tooth!’

The sleigh skidded to a stop on the wide plinth beneath the largest column with the most additions - Asia, Baby Tooth had said - and everyone leapt from their seats, rushing to where Tooth sat on the lowest ledge, barely three feet above the platform they landed on, running a cloth over her remaining talwar. Overhead, Baby Tooth directed the other fairies to the necessary archives, her borderline independent knowledge of the palace sufficient to keep the fairies moving, though not without difficulties. The box that belonged to each individual tooth automatically emerged when the tooth was in a close enough proximity, it was just getting the tooth close enough to activate the correct one, resulting in the fairies flying blindly around the tower waiting for them to emerge after Baby Tooth pointed them in the right direction.

Tooth watched them swirl around the columns, listening to the information fed to her about each tooth through their mind-link, before she turned her attention to the men in front of her.

‘Toothiana, are you alright?’ North asked, climbing up onto the ledge, and crouching down beside her. Nightlight followed him, and Bunny hopped up to hover by her other side, while Sandy floated in front of her, off to the side. Pitch and Jack stayed on the platform level, keeping a distance from each other. Tooth set the sword aside and allowed North to help her to her feet, and he glanced at the extent of her injuries.

‘I’ve been better, North, but that’s not important,’ she said, pulling her hands from his. Already her wounds were healing, the strength of her believers still holding strong despite Rumpelstiltskin’s antics: she could see out her left eye again, the claw marks reduced to angry red welts down the side of her face, and her shoulders were almost completely healed, a deep, residual ache lingering in them. Her thigh took the longest time, the alkonost’s claws only just missing puncturing the femoral artery.

‘Rumpelstiltskin was here,’ she said, focusing on the present. ‘Although I imagine you figured that out by the Nightmare’s message. I know why he’s here though, here on earth, I mean.’

Her shoulders sagged. ‘He’s looking for the Light. _The_  Light, the greatest Light in the universe.’

The Guardians fell silent, staring at her in shock. She nodded, grimacing when she shifted her weight onto her damaged leg. She pressed the heel of her palm against her thigh, massaging it. ‘That’s why he wants our memories: he thinks one of us has it, or at least knows where it is.’

North and Bunny shared a look over Tooth’s head.

‘Is that why he came here?’ Jack asked from behind Pitch. His voice was quiet, and unnaturally sombre. It didn’t sound right to Tooth’s ears, and the distance he kept puzzled her. ‘To get the tooth boxes?’

Tooth nodded, folding her arms across her chest. ‘He wanted to trade. He promised… It doesn’t matter what he promised, he tried to take the teeth. He didn’t get far.’

She’d die before she revealed he could’ve, because of her desperation to have the Sister’s of Flight back. She had never realised it had been so strong until Rumpelstiltskin had offered her the impossible, until she had been ready to blindly believe him capable of such an impossible feat. The desire for family cut deeper than usual with the knowledge that she had turned away from the possibility, however slim it might have been; insidious _what if’s_ plagued her mind with doubt and, loathsome as it was, regret.

She pushed the fear away, squashing it into the darkest corners of her mind, never to resurface. She caught Pitch staring at her, and she held his stare until he looked away and clasped his hands behind his back.

‘Doesn’t that go against the deal?’ Jack asked, looking up from under his hood. He leaned his weight on his staff, hunching over as if to make himself look smaller. ‘Taking more than one memory a day?’

Tooth shook her head, turning her attention back to the Guardians. ‘Unfortunately, the same loop hole we have with the teeth is one that can be exploited by him. He _can’t_ take the memories from the teeth, even if he took the original memory they’re from, but he can look at them. It’s a technicality.’

‘Well, I suppose now we know why he came for the darkness, and didn’t use it,’ Pitch said, massaging his temples. ‘With the darkness and the light in his control, he can use one to cancel out the other, and with them, the entire universe.’

‘It would explain why he went after Katherine,’ Bunny said quietly, staring off into the distance with a hard look on his face. ‘He thought she had it, because she bridged the gap. The children’s belief was his next guess.’

Tooth swallowed, her heart squeezing in her chest, and she reached out to gently touch his arm. Bunny looked down at her hand, before lifting his gaze to meet hers. She offered him a small, consoling smile; he returned it weakly, and rested his hand over hers.

‘So, what do we do now?’ Jack asked. ‘About this Light?’

Bunny dropped his hand away from Tooth’s and turned to Jack, his brow furrowed as he regarded him. Jack held his gaze hesitantly, like he was afraid Bunny was about to snap at him, and Bunny shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Nothing we can do about it. It’s just a legend, the Light being here. He’s off on a wild goose chase while we actually succeeded ours.’

‘Wait… What?’ Tooth asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced between Bunny and Jack.

‘We found our Mother Goose,’ Bunny said, misreading her confusion. He cocked his head to one side, offering her a more genuine smile. ‘She’s back in Burgess.’

She opened her mouth to say something when she perked up, registering Bunny’s words. She was ready to leap into the air and squeal with delight - injuries be damned - when Bunny held up one hand to stop her, a troubled look on his face. He explained the new danger they faced: the renewal of the deal because Mother Goose couldn’t see them, the trade off for protecting the children; everything she had missed while searching through the teeth. She sank back to the ledge as she listened, her joy dissipating until it was if it had never been there in the first place.

‘Then, I have something else to tell you, since they are still a threat: he’s using alkonosts to steal our memories,’ she said, holding onto her arms. ‘I disposed of three here but there’s no doubt he has plenty more. Worse still, I don’t know where I am.’

She told them about her memory loss, clasping her hands behind her neck as her voice cracked. She clenched her teeth and took a deep breath to calm herself, despite feeling like she had slept for over our hundred years and had only just woken up from a dream. She didn’t have the words to describe the horrific panic she felt, the constant disorientation of being lost in the place that was meant to be her home, the violent nausea when she looked into the empty spaces of her mind expecting _something_ to be there.

Perhaps she didn’t need the words, when North wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, comforted by the silent understanding they all shared with each other. She didn’t move for some time, listening to the hum of her fairies and soft huff of North’s breathing under her ear, before she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and forced a smile on her face, drawing away from him and jumped up into the air again.

‘Well, there’s still hope,’ she said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster, and Bunny smiled, tipping his head in agreement. ‘There’s one little faerie who saved the day, so I still might be able to find the tooth box we’re after.’

She looked up into the swarm of fairies above her head. ‘Baby Tooth!’

Jack’s head snapped up, and he followed Tooth’s gaze, recognising the name even if he couldn’t remember the fairy. Tooth smiled genuinely this time, as Baby Tooth zipped down, still chirping to three of her sisters who had followed her. Baby Tooth pointed to where they needed to go, before sinking into Tooth’s cupped hands tiredly, puffing for breath. The scale of knowledge for one little mini fairy was too vast to successfully hold, even if she was independent enough from the link she shared with her sisters to lose her own, unique memory.

‘Oh, it’s okay, darling,’ Tooth soothed, stroking her head with her thumb. ‘You’re doing so well!’

She turned to the Guardians, holding Baby Tooth up for them to see. ‘She still has some knowledge left of this place. Not everything, but enough to keep me going. As long as I have her, I’ll be okay.’

‘So,’ she said, letting Baby Tooth hover in the air beside her. ‘If we have her name and which continent her teeth are probably stored in, we can narrow the search. What are we going to do about protecting humans?’

‘Mother Nature is sending spirits back to their domains to protect humans against Fearlings and other bad spirits, while others are staying in Burgess to help us,’ North explained. ‘Now that we know what to look for, already reports of Yōuki and Oni from Japan to Soucouyant terrorising Trinidad and Tobago are being heard. Ala causing massive storms across Europe, the Nuckelavee has risen off the Scottish coast and making its way inland: all over world, hungry spirits are coming out to feast.’

Tooth shook her head in disgust. ‘ _How_ did Rumpelstiltskin get so many of them to help him?’

‘When you’re faced with the end of the world, you might as well go out with a full stomach,’ Pitch replied with a wry smile. ‘Hopefully no one else dies trying to protect the humans, or we’ll have quite the rota to refill by the end of this.’

‘Well, then, no time to waste,’ Tooth said. ‘What is her name? I will send a messenger to Burgess with the information I find in it, and I’ll try to help her believe again through her memories.’

North nodded in agreement. ‘Her name is Satu Ava Hall. The kids’ say she is from Finland or Sweden– we don’t know which, or when she moved to America - her teeth may be stored in either.’

‘A long shot to find in time,’ Tooth admitted, biting her finger. She shook her head. ‘No matter, I will do what I can. Did the children give you any more information about her, to help narrow the search?’

‘They said she’s around twenty four, I _think,_  her birthday is February 19th,’ Jack spoke up. ‘She has pale, wavy blonde hair and green eyes. If that can narrow your search at all.’

‘It can, it gives us a timescale for when she lost her baby teeth, and an idea of the picture on her box,’ Tooth replied. Beside her, Baby Tooth huffed, drooping dramatically. Tooth cupped her hand over her and kissed her on the forehead, stroking her golden feather with her thumb.

‘We must get back to Burgess,’ North said, almost apologetically. ‘Tooth, please take care.’

Tooth almost laughed, until she caught the worry in everyone’s eyes and she paused, considering. It was a long way between them and her, and while she could handle her own, she bore the wounds that told of a dangerous close call. Down two memories, and already the disorientation struck hard every time she tried to reach for something that wasn’t there, the loss of any recognition of her home almost killing her when she should have been with the advantage against the Alkonost.

‘Pitch,’ she said, turning to him. ‘If I could, I would like to keep hold on those Nightmares you so… graciously provided.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed with an easy shrug. ‘I am to assume they are all still accounted for?’

As if on cue, a collective bray rang over the drone of the fairies, and Pitch turned to see the dozen Nightmares he had left in Tooth’s control trot over the platform to greet him, nuzzling at his robe and rubbing their heads against him.

‘Ah, now, that’s something I do like to see,’ Pitch said, stroking the muzzle of what Tooth considered to be the leader of the herd and cooing to it.

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ Jack asked, grinding his staff against the platform.

‘As long as we all remember each other, we’ll be fine,’ she said with a smile. It fell from her face when Jack visibly winced, and Bunny looked away. Tooth narrowed her eyes, her brow furrowing in suspicion as she glanced at North, who raised his eyebrows in turn.

‘Speaking of memories,’ Tooth said, turning back to Jack. ‘Jack, you’re one of the few of us who I hold the tooth box for: if you are happy enough to catch up with the others, I would like to give it to you to keep on you for future. I am unfortunate that I left my own in my rooms, and can’t remember where it is to find it. I can’t let the same happen to anyone else.’

Jack looked to North, and he nodded encouragingly. Jack pushed his hood down, and Tooth saw the bloodshot rawness in his eyes for the first time. Her heart clenched, but she kept her expression cheerful as she turned to the others.

‘Alright, you all need to take care as well,’ she said, hands on her hips. ‘If you need me in Burgess, send word through the Nightmares and I will come find you all.’

‘We’ll be apples, Tooth, don’t you worry,’ Bunny replied, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin, ruffling her plumage. Tooth returned the hug with a smile, and bid farewell to the other Guardians, even offering Pitch a small nod in lieu of a hug. The Nightmares scattered back to their stations, circling the towers and grounds, searching for anyone that would still try to sneak up on her.

Waving the Guardians off until they disappeared through a snow globe portal, she turned to Jack, who stood a little away from her, looking at the floor. He looked up at her through his eyelashes when he felt her staring, his lips pulled down at the corners. His eyes flicked to Baby Tooth hovered by Tooth’s head, chirping worriedly in her ear. Tooth waved her to be quiet, and smiled at Jack.

‘Come on, we’ll get you your tooth box,’ she said, beckoning him to follow and flying towards the passageway Baby Tooth had led her down to get to Rumpelstiltskin. Jack followed her in silence, and they flew down the long, winding hall, avoiding the large chunks of debris lining the corridor floor, and the large crater that had opened from Rumpelstiltskin’s attack. She swung into the quartz caves and they entered the spirit archives, and Jack let out a low whistle at the magnitude of the cavern inside. Tooth puffed up with pride, pleased with his awe.

The seven colossal dark stone columns followed the same pattern as the human archives, with one representing each continent: they each hung over a glowing blue-white lake that swallowed the bottom of the cavern, wisps of silvery white mist swirling over it and lapping at the walls; only the highest rocks broke through it, the same glowing crystals adorning their surfaces. The sporadic _plink_ of water droplets hitting the surface was the only sound that could be heard in the hollow of the mountain.

Baby Tooth pointed at each of the columns, reminding Tooth which was which and they ascended to the North American one, landing on one of the middle ledges of dark sanded stone, smooth arcs of stone curving from the edge of the platform to the side of the column for something to perch on between the levels. The stone beneath their feet rippled with saturated purples and blues, white streaks cutting through the deep colours, inlaid with uncut gems that were cool to the touch, and they perched on the curved edge, mirroring each other as they looked out into the cave.

‘Baby Tooth,’ Tooth said, stretching her arms over her knees and looking up at Baby Tooth. ‘This is where you’ll need to help me again; can you find Jack’s tooth box?’

Baby Tooth nodded, and hopped up into the air, flying to the higher reaches of the column. Tooth watched her fly until she was out of sight, before turning her attention to Jack.

He didn’t look at her, gazing around at the glowing cavern. The pale light from the crystals made his eyes glow iridescent in the dim light, his skin taking on an otherworldly quality; alabaster white, the shadows deeper and sharper in the dips and hollows of his face and neck. The permanent sprinkling of frost through his hair glittered, haloing his face and giving his already youthful appearance an angelic innocence: Tooth had only seen Fae possess the same beauty she saw in Jack now, in the ones that beguiled beautiful young men and women, tempting them into the Fae world or into bed or to their death.

She blinked, shifting on her perch and she pushed the similarities out of her mind.

‘Jack?’ she asked quietly, and he cocked his head to the side, looking at her out the corner of his eyes. ‘Are you alright?’

He smiled wryly, looking down at the stone beneath them. He tapped his staff against the gemstones, sending short bursts of frost spreading over them. She kept quiet, waiting him out as he continued to tap his staff against the stone in silence, before he sighed, resting the staff against his shoulder.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, swallowing. Tooth said nothing, watching him. He met her eye out the corner of his, and looked away, almost shamefully.

‘Bunny…’ he began, then shook his head, looking up at the dark ceiling. Pinpricks of white were scattered through the darkness, reminiscent of stars. He sniffed, blinking, and shook his head again, his chin falling to his chest. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Jack, it’s not your fault,’ Tooth said, already fitting the pieces together from the way they had acted. ‘If he’s forgotten you, it’s not because anything you did or didn’t do. It’s not because it’s you.’

‘It’s not… I’m not _surprised_. I mean, one of us had to be the first to go, it just… makes sense that’s it’s me. Since, you know…’

‘Jack, the others and I still remember you,’ Tooth said, shifting closer and touching his shoulder lightly. He didn’t shrug her off, which soothed a small part of her she didn’t realise had been worried. ‘Alkonosts... Whatever you’re thinking the moment you hear them scream, even if you don’t realise you’re thinking it, they can take it from you. It doesn’t mean that Bunny _wanted_ to forget about you.’

Jack didn’t say anything, his bottom lip trembling as he looked out over the spirit archives. His face crumpled, before he hid it in one hand, sniffling when he tried to breathe. Tooth moved even closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close and carding her fingers through his hair.

‘Jack, what happened, after he forgot?’

Jack leaned into her, shaking his head. Wiping his face with his sleeve cuff, he huffed a breath, swallowing thickly.

‘He was confused, about standing out in the snow with me. He saw the Fearling lying nearby – a Fearling attacked, but it’s fine. I’m fine. He saw it and said to get back to the Guardians. I could tell that, something was off with him, that he’d forgotten something and I… um, he told me about you guys like I didn’t know who you were and, um,’ Jack trailed off, sniffing again. He rubbed his forehead with trembling fingertips. ‘When we got back, when we got back to Jamie’s – I still remember him – North told him, North told him I was a Guardian and he, um, he didn’t...’

Jack shook his head, refusing to continue. He pressed his forehead against his knees, curled up over himself into a ball.

‘Jack, it’s okay,’ Tooth soothed. ‘I promise, it’s okay. He just lost a major memory, and Bunny’s always been prone to scepticism.’

‘It’s more than that,’ Jack mumbled, but didn’t elaborate. Tooth frowned, at a loss for words.

‘Jack, is this about… actually, I don’t know what it’s about: I’m sorry Jack, I can’t read your mind,’ she sighed.

‘It’s not like there’s gonna be a lot left there by the time this is over,’ he said, his grip tightening on his staff.

‘By the time this is over, things will be back to normal,’ she said, although it was undeniably a lie: Katherine dead, innumerable humans possibly dead, the world clawing itself back to some semblance of stability but unable to be the same ever again. ‘As normal as they can be.’

Jack said nothing, and she kept stroking his hair, the way she would pet her fairies when they were sad, the soft, cold strands slipping between her fingers as they waited for Baby Tooth’s return. Tooth looked up at the spiralling columns, stone viaducts curving to smaller platforms and chambers for extra storage and perching. On the curved surface of the columns, she could see faint, geometric patterns and the polished gold stands that held the tooth boxes when they emerged from the walls.  She wondered if she had designed the palace herself.

‘You know,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’d be alive if it wasn’t for you, today.’

Jack shifted, and she looked down to see Jack staring up at her over the top of his arm with one watery eye. She smiled, and continued the long, soothing strokes through his hair, careful not to scratch him with her nails. ‘Now, obviously the fact I _am_ a warrior queen played a significant part but… I had no memory of my palace. I still don’t, but, I didn’t know where my weapons were, I didn’t know the dead ends or the passageways or the caverns or where to go. Baby Tooth came back with a Nightmare. She retrieved my swords. She still knew where they were.’

Jack said nothing, staring at her, waiting for her to speak. Tooth continued stroking his hair, teasing knots apart when she snagged them.

‘The conditions of the deal were one memory from every spirit, every day we don’t find Mother Goose. My fairies are, technically, simply extensions of myself: the alkonost’s scream affects them directly through me,’ she explained. ‘The only reason I can think why Baby Tooth lost her own memory, is that she is recognised as a separate spirit because she has a name.’

Jack said nothing, absorbing the information. Tooth shrugged.

‘Give something a name, give it power: something we’ve learnt the hard way with Rumpelstiltskin,’ she said. ‘Maybe I should name all my fairies, to avoid something like this happening again.’

‘That might take a while,’ Jack said after a pause.

‘You could help. You’ve got a hundred percent success rate so far,’ she joked, and Jack smiled weakly, just as Baby Tooth flew back down, barely holding onto the tooth box between her hands. Tooth hopped into the air, taking it from her before it fell.

‘Thank you, Baby Tooth,’ she said, dropping back onto the platform. Baby Tooth bowed her head, and flopped onto Tooth’s shoulder, puffing for breath. Jack lifted his head and stared at Baby Tooth. Tooth saw him staring and smiled, shrugging her shoulder to get Baby Tooth’s attention. ‘Do you want to say hello?’

Baby Tooth sat up, watching Jack shyly. He smiled at her, and raised a hand in greeting.

‘Hey there, little Baby Tooth,’ he said. ‘Guess you’re running the show now, huh?’

Baby Tooth chirped, then sagged on Tooth’s shoulder with a tired sigh. Jack chuckled, and slipped his hands into his hoodie pocket.

‘Well, maybe when Tooth’s done with her vacation, you can come chill with me?’ he suggested, grinning impishly at Tooth. Baby Tooth nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands.

‘ _Vacation_?’ Tooth repeated, playfully swatting at him. He chuckled, leaning away from her and they settled back down. Tooth held out his tooth box for him to take, and he slipped it into his pocket, keeping his hand wrapped around it. He stared off into the mid distance, looking at something – or for something – Tooth couldn’t see. His eyes grew sad, and Tooth felt a heavy pang in her chest over what he might have lost from his memories: North and Sandy seemed reasonably like themselves, having potentially lost anyone from their long lives before they became Guardians. Bunny leaned more toward formal language than she had grown accustomed to for the last several hundred years, Jack’s influence on Bunny giving him his recognisable faster, rougher speech peppered heavily with slang, usually reserved for when he was riled. Yet, even with his gruffer attitude, he had been more open: now she saw the more guarded, quiet Pooka she had first met when she had been chosen as a Guardian, when only North’s teasing could get a rise from him.

‘Jack-’

‘I should head back,’ Jack said, standing up in one fluid motion. Tooth blinked, and followed him, taking to the air so they were eye level. He turned and smiled at her, although it lacked its usual carefree joy, his eyes still red and bloodshot in the pale crystal light. He carded his fingers through his hair, ruffling it before it fell back into place. ‘Thanks, Tooth, for… for my memories.’

‘I hope they help,’ she replied. She offered a small smile. ‘Come on, I’ll see you out to the main hall.’

Jack nodded, and together they left the darker caverns behind and returned to the sunlit halls of pink and gold, the light blinding them momentarily before their eyes adjusted. The drone of the fairies’ wings was a roar in their ears after the quiet of the cavern, and even Tooth winced at the sudden assault on her ears.

‘Well, I guess I’ll see you soon,’ Jack said, hovering at one of the entrances into the palace.

‘Hopefully it won’t be too long,’ she agreed. Jack nodded, hesitating still. Tooth opened her arms out, and Jack visibly relaxed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in close in an embrace. She tucked her head under his chin like she had with Bunny, the chill noticeable to her normally warmer temperature but not uncomfortable. She remained hugging him until he was the one who moved away some minutes later, drawing his hood up over his head.

‘Take care of yourself, Tooth,’ he said, raising his hand goodbye.

‘You too, Jack. Oh, and Jack?’ she said. He paused, and flew back to her, cocking his head to one side curiously. Tooth bit her lip, stroking her chin with one finger as she considered her next words. ‘Ask Bunny about the legend of the Light. He knows the story back to front. Tell him I’m the one who suggested it.’

‘Okay, Tooth,’ Jack agreed, and she waved him goodbye as he swooped through the air on wind currents, heading back to Burgess. She watched until he was just a tiny spec on the horizon, and then completely out of sight. Baby Tooth chirped on her shoulder, cocking her head to look at her questioningly.

Tooth glanced at her out the corner of her eye, folding her arms across her chest. She pursed her lips in thought, before she shook her head. ‘Come on, we have work to do. Time to get to it.’

Baby Tooth huffed, collapsing on Tooth’s shoulder with an exaggerated swoon. Tooth laughed, and they both hopped into the air, winging their way back into the main hub in search for Mother Goose’s tooth box.


End file.
